Cum tacet clamat
by Kerschi-Puky
Summary: I never had thought that a phone call from my mother could change my life... Ch.6 revised!
1. Prologue

**A/N.: **Well I know I don't use to publish more than one at once, but things can change. I really would like to know what you think of this.

**Disclaimer:** I still don't any rights regarded to the OC

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**_1. Prologue_**

I never had thought that a phone call from my mother could change my life and that of my wife and son for ever. It had been late at night, when she had called us. My son had disappeared in his room and my wife and I were cleaning up the remains of another Newport-Party. Since I'm living here my relationship to my Mum is…ice cold. I'm still a public defender. I set my heart on it. This job fulfils me with the feeling that I still can effectuate something – bring a change into this society. But marrying this rich woman – daughter of the owner of the Newportgroup – had been betrayal in her point of view. I have lost my ideals that's what she had said, when I left the Bronx and went to Berkeley in California. It got worse when I moved with my wife and son to Newport – the area of the rich and superficial. Since then we don't talk a lot. Sometimes she comes by for a visit. She wants to see her grandson and deep down I know she loves him. But it's not the right surrounding, the right wife. In her point of view too much money and people having it has something criminal. She doesn't believe that money doesn't make all people selfish and cash-hungry. My wife was the best prove for it. The only right thing is my job, which I easily could do in the Bronx, where the kids really needed someone like me. If she knew how despaired kids in California could be too. In my opinion it doesn't matter from where these kids come from. Abuse is abuse and the fact that it happened in California doesn't make it any better. The phone is ringing. Then I had no idea of who it could have been. All people who could have wanted to talk to us had been at this party.

"Sandy, can you?" My wife asked. I nodded and grabbed the phone.

"Sandy Cohen?" I asked.

"_Sandy? Here's Sophie, your Mum._" A shock had run through my spine. My Mum never called – or yes she did, but she had her habits when to call and this hadn't matched into one of her habits. This only could mean something was wrong.

"Mum? What's wrong? Everything alright with you?" I immediately asked. My wife must have heard the word 'Mum'. She turned around and looked questioning at me. Her face turned concerned, although my Mum didn't like her, my wife would leave things as they were and come with me if something would happen to her.

"_Sandy, with me is everything okay, but it's serious."_ She told me. Relieve spreads through my body like a drug. My Mum is okay, that was the most important. But what was wrong then.

"Good to hear, but…not that I won't appreciate it if you'd call more often, but what's wrong?" I asked on. There was a silence. My wife came to me, putting a hand one my shoulder – comfortingly.

"_I…I have a boy…he needs your help. Sandy you're the only one I know who can help him. Sanford it's really serious. If you can't help him nobody can…_" My Mum started to explain. I didn't understand what she meant – or what she had been talking about. But I would next day. I only didn't know it then and I didn't know then her definition of serious. But if she used my first name – besides I hate it – it had to be serious for her.

"Mum, you need to explain me what had happened."

"_I…can't. Not over the phone. Sandy you need to come here, have a look at these files and …at the boy. Sandy, I beg you to come here and help the boy._" My Mum, who used to be calm in every situation, now sounded hysteric. I still can't imagine that my Mum had been that concerned about a person, like about this boy. She not even had been that concerned about us – her children – but the reasons for that were different and I know it.

"Mum, I can't drop my job and come…" I try to explain her. The earliest date could be next week that's what my calendar says.

"_It could be too late then…Sanford, we're talking about life or death and I'm not exaggerating. You know that_." That had been true. My Mum never would make jokes about things like that.

"Okay, I take the first plane I can catch." I told her, trying to sooth her.

"_You're a good boy_." She had said and then the call had been over. I looked at my wife.

* * *

The phone call had seemed hectic and in my husbands eyes could see there was serious trouble coming up

"This was my Mum." He told me. His voice was shaky.

"And is everything okay?" I asked him. Their relationship never had been the best. But I know how much he loves his Mum and I know how much she loves him. Today I know she had called him, because he had been the only one she trusted in this. Today I know she was more than proud of him. Today I know she doesn't hate me. She's just a jealous Mum who is afraid to lose her son.

"With her yes…but she…was a little cryptic…told me something about a boy who needs my help and…that it was about life and death." He answered. Then I saw, this was no joke. Life and death were no joke topics for his Mum, despite I can't imagine her making any jokes.

"And?" I asked, but I knew his decision. I had listened to the phone call and I could see it in his eyes.

"I have to go to New York tomorrow. I'm sorry, but I never could forgive myself if this was really serious and…"

"I know and I respect your decision." I told him. If I had respected it, when I had known what was coming up to us? I don't know. It had been the beginning of the hardest time, we ever had. On the other hand we had won so much – the most valuable thing in life. I don't regret any decision we had made in this time. I only wish I had been prepared.

"I love you." He took me into a tough embrace. I didn't know then how strong the bond of our love was. Otherwise, we never had made it through this episode of life. Our love had grown with this and it already had been strong. But nevertheless thinking about that time still was hurtful.

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I look at my husband.

"It was the right decision." He says.

"I know."


	2. Jules Verne, New York & California

**_2. Jules Verne, New York & California_**

Next day I've been on my way back to New York. I had a strange feeling in my stomach and it wasn't only regarded to the mysterious job that was coming up to me. It was regarded to my first visit at home since I've left with seventeen. I never had wanted to come back and I never did. I feel bad. I not even had the strength to come back for my Mum - that bad do I hate this place. Today I'm glad that I don't have to go back again any time soon – never if I don't want to. After the landing I immediately headed out of the airport. I hadn't much luggage, just a little bag. I didn't plan to stay longer than any necessary. In a taxi I drove back to the place I grew up. It hadn't changed in all those years. It still looked dirty and rotten. I don't know why my Mum had lived there for so long. She easily could afford something better. But it took her some time and some events to realize where her place is. I drove by my old school. It looked worse than it had then. I always have planed to escape from there. Today I know my suspicion that this school was a hole swallowing all hopes and talents is right – not only because of my story. What do I say? This is still my story. Just some actors came up the scene I didn't know before. When I've reached the old building I grew up in, my heart beat heavy. How would my Mum react, when she saw me in our old apartment? She always had blamed me for not visiting her. I never had been able to. This place was only one of bad memories that hurt. This was the place of pain and harm. I still remember the night, when my father pissed off and left us alone. Today I can say I should have been glad. There was only yelling and I'm sure my father had been able to more than only yelling. I've seen his eyes. Fortunately he had left before something happened we all had regretted. But then I felt alone and lost. My Mum hadn't been able to care for all her kids and I started to feel unhappy. I watched the kids playing on the streets as I used to do it so many years ago. Heavy hearted I entered the building and climbed up the rotten and dirty stairs to our former apartment in the last floor. With every single step it felt harder. I felt bad, because I've never been able to visit my Mum. I hated her for her job. Today I'm no different, maybe even worse. We both had sacrificed for those sad and despaired souls. For both of us this had been the end of that road. Nobody of us had known what had been coming up to us, what it would cause in our lives. I for my part don't regret the decision to quit my job and do something else. I never would have been able to go on with my job after something like this.

I reached the door. I hesitated to ring the doorbell, but eventually I did. It cost a lot of strength. I heard steps inside. Then someone opened the door – only a slight little bit.

"Sanford!" My Mum called out. I couldn't remember any visit on which she had been that enthusiastic to see me.

"Sanford, you came home." She said, opened the door and took me into a tough embrace and gave me a kiss. Already then I noticed that she had changed – she never had been a woman for sentimental gestures or even words. Not this woman.

"Hey Mum." I greeted her. She took my hand and pulled me inside. It smelled like meat loaf. How I love my Mum's meat loaf. I became curious about this. My Mum didn't bother cooking our favourite meals in ages. I started to think that she might have lied to me and it was something about her.

"Nice to have you home again after so many years. C'mon sit down. Do you want some ice tea?" She asked. From then on I've been aware that she never stopped to think of me as her little son. I'm sure I'll never be old enough to make her stop with that.

"Why not." I answered. My glance wandered around the small kitchen. We've had so many awful and amazing nights in here. Every Christmas took place in there, with a lot of Chinese take out. She put a huge glass in front of me. It was the one I used to drink my milk out.

"I'm so glad that you're here." She said and again started to embrace me. I saw that she had been fighting with the tears. I started to worry. What if she was serious ill and …I hadn't noticed?

"How long can you stay?" She asked me expectant.

"I don't know. Depends on how long you need me here." I answered. She only nodded and then closed the kitchen door, which led to the living room and the other rooms. She never did so. We never had been allowed to close doors.

"Mum, what's wrong?" I asked her. She took a thick folder out of her old bag and put it onto the table. Relieve. That was what I felt then. It meant she hadn't lied. It wasn't about her. She was alright.

"What is it?" I asked her.

"Could you please speak in lower voice? This is the problem I need your help in." She opened the folder and took out a file. The stamp had told me, it had been the one of a minor. She opened it and showed me a photo.

"This is the boy." I hadn't had a close look onto the photo.

"And what did he do?" I asked her. My Mum sighed.

"It's a long and difficult story, so don't interrupt my, while I'm telling you." I had been glad to realize she still was the harsh woman I used to call my Mum.

"The police had gotten a hint that around here is a major knot for some huge drug thing." Only this sentence had been enough to tell me that I had been faced with a huge problem. Minors and drugs never was something good and it never was easy to get the kid out of it. No judge liked a dealing teenager.

"Someone told them about this boy and they set two undercover detectives on him. They followed him two months." She gave me more photos which showed the boy dealing with drugs. I had no clue then, why she had wanted me to help this boy. At that point I had been reluctant to.

"They had luck and the boy led them to the centre of this drug thing. They raid one of these old houses a few streets down here. They found hundred pounds cocaine, a man and a woman – his mother - and this boy." I still hadn't gotten the point. This case had been clear until that point.

"And now they accuse him for dealing?" I asked.

"Yes and they are wrong." I hadn't been sure if I had heard what my Mum had said then. How could they be wrong about that? There had been enough evidence. No matter with what force one could fight. It never could have been enough to get the boy out of this. Not with those facts.

"Mum…"

"I told you not to interrupt me. They found the boy locked up in a basement. No light, no window. Only rats and dirt. No food and no water. I don't know how long the boy had been in there, but it had been several days." And now things started to turn. Until that point I have had the chance to run and I had often thought it would have been better in the following days.

"He had been arrested and they informed me. I checked our files and found this." She pointed at the file she had taken out of the folder before.

"This here speaks clear words…" I didn't want to hear, what his file said then. I wanted the facts and no sentimental stuff.

"And what does the attorney say?"

"Full intention concerning the dealing and the accessory."

"And is the attorney up to a deal?"

"Yes. The boy is approver in those cases against his own mother and her boyfriend. He said if the boy gives evidence at court, he might get away with one year, instead of three to six." Six to eight? This was a lot and it meant that what the Police had found had been very serious. They don't lock up kids for so long if it…wasn't necessary. But the facts had been clear. I didn't understand my Mum's irrationality. She always had been hard to drug dealers. Why did she become soft now?

"And what shell I do about that? I think the best is, the boy agrees to this deal." I still didn't see any reason for me being here and yes, I started to be pissed at my Mum. There was nothing I could have done. This had been a clear case.

"The boy is mute." My mind went blank when she said this. There had been too many thoughts in my head, too many questions.

"Oh…okay…Mum…that's awful…and…but he could write down his testimony." I answer. But inwardly I already felt then, what the problem had been - my Mum's fuss about his file and everything. I only took a little longer than I'm used to.

"Listen to me, carefully: technically…the boy can speak, he has no brain damage or something. Physically he's alright in this point. He…just can't. I don't know what had happened. The only thing that's clear is that someday in his life something happened that made him become mute and this something has to be related to what he has to testify. Sanford, the boy isn't dumb. He understood what the attorney had told him. He just can't. And…if you don't believe me…have a look at this and the police report." She pointed at the file. In her eyes I've seen a concern, I've never have seen before.

"Okay, if it means so much to you, I'll see what I can do. But I can't promise anything. Do you know where the boy is? I…at least want to talk to him, get an impression of who he is." My Mum moved her head into the direction of the door at the kitchen. I…

"Mum?"

"He's here."

"What? Mum! You don't know this boy…this…" I had been dumbfounded by my Mum's behaviour. I doubted it was her I had been sitting across from.

"Shh, you're scaring him." I had no clue of what my Mum wanted to do. I started to fear she might have gotten insane and that it had been my fault, as I had been the one leaving her alone.

"Sandy, I…listen: the boy got arrested, but the social service had been able to get him out. He…wasn't capable of surviving there. He was brought to a foster home, but…he freaked out and…now he's my responsibility."

"He freaked out?" My Mum used to smell a lie ten miles against the wind and this had been one that had been what I thought.

"Social anxiety disorder. Maybe the result of being locked up too long in a basement, but it's only an assumption. He can't handle crowded places. Hell it took days for me to make him able being in the same room with me." And this statement had been the one, telling me I couldn't do anything about that anymore.

"Sorry, Mum…I don't think that I'm the right person for this job."

"You are. Sandy, I've seen you with Seth and I listened to you, when you were talking about your job. When someone can help him…then it's you."

"And what do you think I shell do about this?" My Mum sighed again. This always had been a bad sign. It usually meant she hadn't told me the whole truth.

"First of all, I want you to … convince him that he has to make this statement and…I know what I'm asking for is a lot…but…he's not safe here. There are several people afraid of…what he could tell the judge." I looked at my Mum and I only felt rage. I had been far away from taking a boy home with me, I didn't even know and not to mention all the problems he was bringing with him: social anxiety disorder, mute.

"Mum! I…can't do this. I have a son at home and I don't think Kirsten would like this idea too. I…really want to help you, but this goes too far." I hated having to tell her this. Later she told me she had known from the very beginning what was going to happen. She always knows things before they happen.

"Sandy I can understand your furry now, but maybe you can just talk to him, get him to know?" She had suggested. I hadn't wanted to. My intention had been: run.

"Sandy, please." She had taken my hands and had looked into my eyes. I had been powerless against her force to be my mother.

"Okay." I had been defeated. She slowly opened the door to the living room and what I had seen there, had been the reason for my – our all – life's change. He sat on the window-sill, his head leaning against the window, the legs pulled up to his body, with a book on his knees. He didn't paid attention to us, as if we weren't there at all. I slowly stepped into the room. There was something calm, but also frightened radiating from the boy's presence.

"Hey Ryan," My Mum started to get the boy's attention. Ryan? He didn't look like Ryan and I have met a lot of Ryans in Juvies. I saw how he slowly drew his attention from the book towards our direction. His head remained ducked. But in a sudden his body tensed up, the book fell onto the floor as he slung his arms around his legs and tried to make himself as small as possible. I haven't understood what it meant.

"Sorry, I should have warned you." My Mum spoke softly. I never had thought she could be that sensitive. She slowly went to the boy. Gently put a hand onto his shoulder. He even tensed up more, if this had been possible. This had been the moment in which I have gotten aware of that the boy couldn't have been capable of some crime. He had been too afraid of his surrounding. It had been a wonder that he managed to deal. Something must have threatened him awfully to make him capable of that.

"That's Sandy. He's my son. He's here to help you. I promise he won't harm you. He has a son on his own and he's a public defender." She had started to sooth him.

"Hey Ryan." I tried to follow my Mum's example and tried to be as sensitive as I could have been. I step a little closer. His head was turned away – towards the window. I picked up the book that had fallen down to the floor.

"Jules Verne 'A Journey to the Centre of the Earth', had been my favourite one." I tried to make him relax a little more in my presence. He didn't look at me.

"Could…could…you turn you head a little? I…don't feel comfortable talking to a face in the window." His face immediately turned away and then was buried between his knees. This boy had been a tough nut, but there had been something from the second I entered the room that had connected me to the boy. It had been this invisible bond. It hurt to see a teenager that devastated.

"Know what? You're raising new hope in me. Every time I tell me son about this book and Jules Verne's heroes, he's laughing at me and starts to tell me about the more thrilling adventures of his comic heroes…let me guess…Superman, Wolverine and…okay, I fail. Don't let my son know. He'll make fun of me the rest of this…triad." I took a chair and pulled it next to the boy and then I sat down. I didn't notice that my Mum had left us. My attention had been focused on the boy.

"I imagine when I was living here. We were three kids in this apartment. Not a lot of space. You know what's curious? I hated that place. I couldn't get out of here soon enough. When I got a scholarship for Berkeley I packed my bags – okay it was only one – and headed to California. Have you ever been in California? It's really nice. I like it there - a lot of sun and beach. But the main reasons I like it there are my son and my wife. It sounds quite fancy hu? But honestly? Now, while I'm sitting here and thinking about it, I don't think my time here was that bad. My Mum always had been a great person. She only has trouble to show you that. She would have done everything for us. She had taught me a lot and although she doesn't want to admit it, she has a lot in common with my wife. You need to know they don't like each other much – at least the pretend to do so." I had no idea why I had started to talk to him like that. I never have talked to a client like that before – it was way too personal. But it has had an effect. He had lifted his head again a little. His chin had been lying on his knees. He hadn't looked at me, but into a corner on the floor.

"Hey, here you are." I said. He turned is head, only a little into my direction. He looked at me through the corner of his eyes. No, not even that. His eyes moved too rapidly for that. But I could make out these ocean blue eyes which were mostly covered by sandy bangs.

"Did you listen to what I was saying?" He only nodded slightly and then turned his head away again. His arms still had been slung around his legs.

"Know what? I bothered you enough for now. But I come back again. Are you okay with that?" He only nodded. I got up and then I made a huge mistake. I had only wanted to pet his arm in assurance. The second I touched him, he flinched violently and pushed the chair heavy against my shin and then cowered into a defensive position. Of course. There was not enough space to escape for him.

"Okay, sorry. My mistake. I go now." I told him. His whole body had been trembling and I saw his breath went fast and unsteady.

When I had been back in the kitchen my Mum had been sitting at the table again.

"And what do you think?"

"Let me talk to Kirsten."


	3. Pychological Mess

**A/N.:** Sorry for this being so short, but I don't want to give away too much at the beginning. I want to give your phantasy the space it needs ;) But be prepared for a lot of drama, hurt, tears and well, what'll come up my mind.

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**_3. Psychological Mess_**

When my husband had called me and explained that there was a boy his Mum wanted him to bring to us, I had been close to declare him of being insane. I didn't like the idea of letting a boy I didn't know into my home – especially a boy who was accused to be a criminal. And then all this about being mute, without being physical disabled and being afraid of people. It sounded like a whole bunch of problems. Who was afraid of people? Nobody. Most were afraid of being alone, but not if being with other people. I didn't get the seriousness of this problem then. I had been sceptical and I had been sure that the boy must have been a good actor. We are no social service. Not that I can't feel for kids that haven't got the life and family my own has. I really felt sorry for those. But helping them didn't mean to take them home with you – to me. Hell, I had no clue how to handle a mute boy with a…a social anxiety…what ever. I was a mother of a healthy untroubled child. What convinced me at the end had been Sophie's hysterical behaviour about this boy. She was an old lady and I had thought that this might have been a sign for starting dementia. Sorry to say that. But this hadn't been the Sophie Cohen I knew at that point of time. Yes, and I had realized due the phone call how my husband had been thinking about that. Well, he had known the boy then, I didn't. Today I don't want to know what might have happened if I had dug in my heels. I better don't even think about that. I gave way and hoped that my husband knew what he had been doing. I had a lot of reasons why I doubted he did. First of all this had been completely irrational and sensitive. This wasn't my husband's way of doing something. Second of all I have a son on my own and at that point of time his safety had been in first place. I was afraid my husband was endangering him. Third of all, I didn't know this boy – probably a criminal. Nobody granted that he didn't turn out to be a smart thieve. Fourth of all, my father would give me hell, if he found out. He already didn't agree to my marriage with my husband. He was too much of a social worker for his taste. I had been afraid of what might he be doing, if he found out about this boy. And fifth of all, this boy seemed to be a psychological mess and I hadn't been in the mood to repair this, nor did I have the time for it. Nevertheless I allowed my husband to bring him home. I knew what would happen to this boy, if he only made one mistake. But I had to agree to it, for my husband's sake – or better his mother's. I know how hard it is to fight for a parent. I didn't want to be the reason why my husband's relationship to his mother was as rotten as my one to my father. Yes, I agreed without knowing what had been coming up to me. But honestly, I haven't counted on that what happened.


	4. Saving Ryan

**_4. Saving Ryan_**

I would have been glad if my mother had told me that social anxiety disorder and airports – even planes – was no good combination. It already had been a tough fight to persuade the boy coming with me. He still didn't look at me and kept a huge distance to me. Sharing a taxi, with a driver he didn't know was already difficult. I kept watching him due the ride to the airport. He had been looking out the window through the whole time, without giving any motion. I only noticed that his body was tensed up and I had been aware then, that I never wanted to witness when this tension broke lose. Although the boy didn't look at me and tried to be invisible, it was clear that his whole attention had been on his surrounding. We both had been travelling with little luggage. The boy's only possessing had been a backpack with a few cloths. Not even my son was able to travel with such little luggage. After we had managed the ride in the taxi without any major trouble, despite the traffic we had to head for our terminal. The airport had been crowded and still today I don't know why I hadn't thought of a late night flight. When we entered the hall, the boy immediately vanished somewhere. I panicked. Only a few minutes and I already lost the boy. Mentally I had been kicking my ass for not having thought of what this might cause in the boy. I ran through the whole hall, searching for him. Too many people. There had been too many people, as if it had been easy to make him out somewhere. I couldn't even let them call him out. He wouldn't react. After minutes of inefficacy I sat down on a bench in the middle of the hall, well aware that the boy won't come here. I had trouble to think of him as a sixteen years old teenager. I didn't know then, what hell he went through over years. My glance wandered through the whole hall, until it stopped at a certain point. There was one corner which had been quiet – no people, only lost luggage. That had been my last straw. I already had been thinking about the swearing I would have to listen, after I had told my Mum I have lost the boy. I slowly went into the direction of that corner. And there he had been, sitting on a box, his eyes closed and heavily concentrated on his breath.

"Ryan?" I asked him. His eyes had flown open and he had jumped up, pressing himself onto the wall, far, far away from me. It's really an awful job to get a kid trusting you, if you aren't allowed to get a little closer to him – not talking about touching. His body had been shaking violently and again he had turned his head away from me. Today I know it had been pure fear.

"Hey kid, I know a lot of people here, but they won't harm you. I promise." I tried to make him trust me. I didn't get a response, but I knew he had been listening.

"Most of them don't pay any attention to you." Not really a nice way to tell someone he hadn't to be afraid of something, but in this case the best solution I had been able to come up with. I never have had to deal with such a frightened teenager.

"You want to see California? The beach and the ocean?" There had been a light nod, but it also could have been imagination, as I had been at my wit's end and despaired. I had no clue of how to get the boy into the plane. Worse of all we had to change the plane and were landing in L.A. . I really should have thought about this. I hadn't and now I had to push the boy through to this.

"C'mon kid, you miss a lot of fun and really beautiful girls if you stay here." It had been lame way to encourage a boy, who has a lot of other things on his mind, than his hormones.

"Okay, know what? Take your time and if you're ready, you just let me know." I had nothing else left, thus I sat down on another box and waited. I had cursed myself for having agreed to this. This had been a bad joke for me. The more it had surprised me when the boy had gotten up on his feet after a while, without me encouraging him. I looked at him. Once again I got the chance to look into these ocean blue eyes. He immediately had turned his head away from me.

"Ready?" I asked him. He only had nodded slowly. "Alright, then let's try. And please, if you think it's too much for you let me know, but don't disappear like that again. Otherwise you're making me a dead man." I tell him. Again he only nodded – at least something.

The whole way to the terminal I had an eye on the boy. He had been keeping a huge distance to me and tried not to come too close as necessary to strangers. It must have been hell for him in his current state. I watched him carefully and saw how his panic grew bigger and bigger. He started to flinch awfully when someone passed by. It had started to hurt me seeing it, when I decided to give him a break. I stopped at the door of a restroom.

"Ryan, come here. Let's give you a break." I said into his direction. The boy had been looking painfully exhausted. He hesitantly had stepped in.

"Take some deep breaths, it's getting better then." I hadn't been sure if this was the truth. I only wished it was. I saw him holding onto the basin, heavy breathing. All colours had been drained out of him. I had to brace myself not putting a soothing hand onto his back. His body was shaking more and more violently and in a sudden, the boy disappeared in one of the cabinets, locked up the door.

"Ryan, everything okay?" No, it hadn't been. The sound of heaves told me so. My heart had clenched. I felt awful, because it was me who had been torturing him more than he was able to take.

"Just take your time." I told him again. This was going to be a long day. I felt relived when I heart the toilette flush. It had taken him another five minutes to come out. When I heard to lock had been opened I had stepped aside. He slowly had gone to the basin and washed his face.

"You're okay?" He certainly hadn't been. His face was covered in sweat and was pale, his breaths still heavy. When he was leaning on the basin I made my second mistake. I only had wanted to rub his back, as I use to do it with Seth, when he had been throwing up. It had been wrong. He flinched violently and turned around. The image of this scene got burned into my brain for the rest of my life. His head had remained ducked, but through his bangs I have seen his eyes. They had been cold and empty. I never have seen those empty and cold eyes in a teenager's face. In that second I've known that this boy had been a ticking time bomb. I had to be carefully with him, because as he looked like had been able to gain a lot of force.

"Right, my mistake, okay? Won't happen again. Just some stupid reflex of a father." I raised my hands to show him, I wasn't going to harm him. This situation only could have lasted a few seconds, because I can't imagine having seen his face before the following evening. He had turned around and slung the arms around himself. I had decided that it would be better to leave him alone, thus I left and hoped he wasn't going to trick me. He didn't. He came out, his head ducked. The shaking had stopped. I was glad to see that he had won some composure back. I bought some water. He didn't take it from me.

"Ready?" I asked him and he nodded. Nodding and shaking, that would be our way of communication for a while. But I accepted it as it was. I couldn't change it anyway.

We made it to our plane without any further stops. We entered the plane. In every row had been three seats what meant: the next problem was coming up. I saw how his body tensed up again.

"Okay Ryan, just stay calm. It's a little narrow here, but what if you take the seat at the window and I sit down next to you? I promise I'm not going to harm you. I only want to get you through to this. Do you think you can manage to sit down?" He did. He slowly made his way to the seat and sat down. Even here he had tried to make the distance between us as huge as possible. It hadn't been a lot. He had been looking out of the window due the whole flight, not even responding to any of my question. I started to ask, what had been able to make a kid in this age that withdrawn. I hadn't found an answer.

When we landed I waited with him for the other passengers to get out, before we did. I started to fear his health. He hadn't eaten or drunk anything yet. No matter what I offered him, he didn't take anything. We made our way to the next terminal. Again we stopped in a restroom. This time the boy immediately locked himself up into one cabinet, but I didn't hear anything. I've waited. I've waited long. I had started to worry.

"Ryan, are you okay?" As if I had been going to receive an answer. I've been waiting again. I tried it again, knocked carefully on the door.

"Ryan?" I noticed that the door hadn't been locked. I've opened it, but what I saw had broken my heart. He sat on the toilet lid, his legs pulled up to his body, his arms wrapped around his leg and his face hid between his knees. It had been the same position I had to talk to him at my Mum's apartment.

"Oh kid. Is it that bad? I wish I could make it any easier for you.…Listen, this is the last plane. We fly to L.A. and from there it goes on by car. It's not a lot and I promise, when we arrive at my home you'll have a room just for you. Nobody will disturb you then. Sounds okay for you?" At that point I would have told him everything to make him come with me again. Again I handed him some water, but again he didn't take it. Abandoned, injured, wild animal, cornered attacked and helpless – this was the best description and it wouldn't be the last time this would fit best to describe his state. Another wave of relieve spread through my body, when I noticed that he unwrapped himself out of his position.

"Only this last time." I told him and then we went to our plane. I let him sit at the window. His face had been turned away from me. He never looked at, but in the window I've been able to see that sad face. It told me that he had lost all hope at the age of sixteen. After we landed I followed the same procedure.

We went to the car park. I've left my car there because I had thought would be back the same day. He hesitated when I got in.

"Don't worry, you can get in and…if you want to…you can take a seat in the front…but…if not it's okay too. I…just thought, when you've never been in California before, you might want to have a nice view on all. But…just…do what you feel comfortable with." I hated the feeling of being faceed to a boy, who was afraid of me. This had been a whole new experience to me. He had waited, suggesting all pros and cons – it looked like that. I've been surprised, when he climbed in and took a seat next to me. But it gave me a little assurance that I might not have made only mistakes. I started the engine and we headed to Newport. It was already late afternoon, thus the streets were quiet. It was a nice ride. No stop and go, no racing only some quiet ride. His head had been leaning against the window due the whole ride. He just had been looking out. It had seemed as if he had been absorbing the whole new environment. I only had been glad that this change of environment didn't push him into a new panic attack. After a while he knocked carefully on the window, it had been nearly inaudible. He must have been extremely afraid of me. I likely would have told him that there was no reason – that I wanted to help him.

"Do…do you want to get out?" I asked him. He had nodded. "Okay, five minutes and we'll reach a gas station. I'll have to refill gas anyway." He only nodded and then we went back to silence. We reached the gas station and the boy got out of the car. He was on his way to the restroom once again.

"Can…you do me the favour and come back? My Mum kills me if I have to tell her that you ran, while you had been with me." I ask him. I hadn't wanted to follow him again. He had been tortured enough with the presence of too many people he hadn't known. He had nodded, but I haven't been sure if he had meant it. Maybe he only had been looking for a good chance to run. I indeed would have. Being pushed around by a stranger couldn't be the nicest experience. I refilled the gas, paid and waited. Again I've been waiting. I got aware of how much patience one needs with such a kid. He surprised me again, when he came back…and handed me an ice cold coke. What this had been supposed to mean? I hadn't known that. Now I guess it's his way to say thank you or sorry – depends on the situation.

"Thanks." When he handed me the bottle, he still hadn't looked at me. I leaned against the car and watched the horizon. I love to watch the ocean and from there the view had been fantastic.

"Can you see those huge buildings?" I had asked him. Again he nodded. "This is the centre of Newport Beach. That's our aim for today. Very close to the beach. I love going surfing in the morning, if I have time. And my son, Seth he loves sailing. He's really good, can get really fast on his catamaran. Have you ever been on a catamaran?" He only shook his head.

"Well, then Seth has to take you with him. I'm sure he'll do so. He's a great kid. I'm sure you'll like him." I only had wanted to take the fear away from him. Seeing that those words became truth was one of the best moments in those rough days. Honestly, I don't think without Seth we would have come away that lightly as we did. Okay, I shouldn't consider it as lightly, but it could have been worse.

"Only my wife doesn't like any sports in connection to water, but don't tell her that California might be the wrong place for such habits. I did once and I'll never do it again. But don't worry. She's a great woman. I'm sure she's already waiting for us. So let's go. I don't want to miss dinner."

I pulled up the driveway. I had been glad to be home again. The worse part of the next few days had been over – I thought. I got out. The boy didn't.

"C'mon Ryan." I encouraged him. "It's not that bad. It only looks huge, but it's only my wife, my son and me living here. Not too many people. And I'm sure you might want to take a nap." I again I had to wait. Ryan left the car only hesitatingly. I went to the door and opened it. The boy remained outside.

"C'mon Ryan, you can't stay outside due the whole night. I promise in a few minutes you'll have your peace."

My husband had entered the kitchen with this blond boy. He had been following him in a far distance. I immediately noticed something had been utterly wrong with him. Not that I have been frightened. It more had been a feeling of concern that hit me when the boy slowly stepped into the kitchen.

"Sandy, I worried what had been taking you so long."

"Had been a bad trip." He only answered.

"And you must be Ryan." I welcomed him. I wanted to give him my hand, but he stepped back. I noticed that his body had been completely tensed up and that he had been shaking violently. I was afraid he might collapse every second. No, this was not the criminal I had expected. This was a little boy, just looking way too old. In this second I would have done everything to make him feel better, but I didn't even know then how he felt. He hadn't been talking or reacting. It felt like he was doing everything to be invisible. It had been hard for me to control my mother instincts and not hovering over him.

"Okay, do you want something to eat?" I asked. They both must have been hungry from their long journey and food always is a good comforter. Despite the boy looked as if he could use something to eat. He had been looking pale and somehow malnourished. It had been such a stupid idea to think I could have made him feel better only with some food. I just hadn't known what to do.

"I guess we better give him some privacy." My husband told me. The boy didn't even look up. He was only staring onto the floor. I felt the urge to take the boy into an embrace, but after his reaction I just swallowed down this urge.

"Alright, does the pool house sound okay for you? Sandy told me you need some privacy." I asked, but he didn't respond. I had been utterly helpless, but when I looked at my husband, who slightly shook his head I understood what he meant.

"Then follow me." I told them and then we went to the pool house. It had been painful to see how insecure the boy had been. He was nothing but scared – scared of us.

"Here we are. There's the bathroom with a shower and there's a little kitchen. I put some water and juice into the fridge." The boy was standing in one corner of the room.

"We leave you now. When you need anything, we're there." My husband pointed at the main house. Then we left him. I had a bad feeling leaving him alone in there. Not because he was a stranger, probably criminal. The boy looked so devastated.

"How bad was it?" I asked my husband when we have been back in the kitchen.

"Really bad. He…can't handle crowded places…the whole trip to L.A. had been a fight." I only nodded and I have seen the concern in his eyes.

"How serious is it?" I had to know what we'll have to deal with the next few days.

"Don't even ask." He only answered and that told me everything. Today I feel bad I didn't intervene any earlier. We might have prevented it. But this idea…it had been so far away from me since now that I didn't think the danger of happening might exist. If I only had known.


	5. The meeting

**_5. The meeting_**

I entered the pool house the next morning. He hadn't shut the blinds. I wanted to check on him, see if he was alright and had calmed down a bit after the previous day. When I entered the room, I immediately saw that the bed had been untouched. Instead the boy had been sitting in one of the basket chairs in his usually position that made me more and more wanting to take him into my arms and telling him that everything was going to be alright again. I just had wanted to sooth him, but the fact that he never would allow me to hit me hard. He hadn't even changed his cloths. He hadn't even taken a shower. Nothing. It then already had been a tough fight to make the boy aware of his status as human being, because this was the last thing he must have been thinking of himself. He just was, nothing more.

"Hey Ryan, did…you sleep well?" I asked. He moved his head into my direction. I already gave up the hope he might only look once at me. It had been pro forma. It had been obvious that the boy hadn't slept in days. His eyes – or what I have seen from them – had been blood shot and were surrounded by dark circles. Something horrible must have happened to the boy, but I didn't know what it was. I've read his file last evening. It explained some things, but was far away from explaining all. It rather forced me to even more questions - his attendance at school for example. He had been frequently at school from the first to the third grade. Then there had been this one year gap. He hadn't repeated the fourth grade and just went on with the fifth. He made it to the first term of the eighths. Another gap was following. The boy hadn't been at school for one and a half year since then. But there had been no explanation in his file. Not why he had missed the fourth grade, nor why the second term of the eighth and the full ninth. If I had known then, what I know today, I probably would have moved heaven and earth only to find someone, who could have told us what to do about it. I hadn't known then and the reality…it never had been reality for me before. It was nothing that happened in real life.

"Alright, well breakfast is waiting in the kitchen. You must be hungry after last day. My wife is already out and I'm here only for a few more minutes so…if…if it makes you feel more comfortable, you just wait until I'm gone. Just…do as you're pleased…but please eat something, okay?" I said. I've seen him listening. I only didn't see any reaction. The boy had seemed so painfully frightened and intimidated only by some comforting words. I would do everything to make undone what had happened.

"If you want to take a shower don't hesitate. You'll find everything you need in the bathroom." It never had occurred to me that he might not once come to this conclusion. It's my own stupidity. I never have been faced with something like that ergo it didn't exist for me. I didn't come to the idea of what might have happened. And especially not what will happen. It just happened and now, I realize that there had been so many signs that should have warned us.

"And don't worry about dirty cloths, there's a laundry basket. Just throw your cloths in there and we'll wash them…okay, Rosa will, but you know…just don't worry about it." I had told him everything to make him feel more comfortable. I just had been unable to watch a teen like that. This had been utterly wrong for me. No teen should have been that withdrawn and that full of fears.

"I leave you your space again." I only said and then went back to the kitchen. I had the feeling as if I won't reach anything. How should I have been able to make the boy trust me enough to write down a testimony? I have been helpless. It had been the first kid that didn't trust me at all. I hadn't been used to it. I waited in the kitchen for him. As I watched out, I saw he didn't move. He remained in the basket chair in this miserable position. I just haven't been able to see him like that. I watched him, hoping he might notice that I've been waiting for him. But nothing happened. I gave up hope the boy might leave the pool house only once for the time he was staying. How had I been supposed to make him trust me? Inwardly I hated my Mum for this. She had given this case to me and now all the pressure was on me. I never would be able to forgive myself if I hadn't managed to help him. I never will forgive myself that I haven't in somehow.

"Morning Dad, what are you still doing here?" My son came downstairs. He as well wore some kind of sad expression on his face and I had known why. It had been vacation, but his parents were to busy for some vacation and he still hadn't managed to find some friends here in Newport. This was hell. I had been faced with two miserable teenagers and worse of all one of them was my son.

"Hey son, so…what are your plans for your first day on vacation?" I had hoped he might have found some activity that made him social, like doing something together with kids in his age.

"Play station, comics the usual, maybe sailing later the day, when the wind gets better."

"Alone?" I didn't like the idea my son was sailing alone. Yes, he's a very advanced sailor. He's really good and he knows everything one can know about sailing, but I'm afraid of the ocean. I'm surfing myself and I know what danger can be hidden under the surface of a calm sea.

"Dad, with whom should I go sailing? I'm living in this Hicksville ruled by spoilt kids and water polo players. How am I'm supposed to fit into it? Besides you haven't even answered my question of what you're still doing here." He had answered. He hated this place and I would either if I had nobody to spend my free time with, despite a plastic hoarse. No, he doesn't know that I know about it and I preferred he never would.

"Just…watching." I answered. How should I've explained him that I've been worried about a boy I only knew since one day? And what does know mean? We haven't had any kind of conversation. There hadn't been even something I would consider as communication.

"The boy you brought home yesterday?" My son asked and grabbed a mug and poured himself some coffee.

"Yes. You know what, why don't you take him with you when you're sailing and he manages to come out of there?" I asked him. I had thought it might have been a good idea for both teens. My hope had been that Ryan wasn't as afraid of another teenager the same age, as of adults.

"Wow, now I'm not only the only child geek, but also nanny for some disabled boy your Mum forced you to bring home. Really good idea Dad, I'm sure that'll help me polishing my image from death-bred-Seth to death-bred-Seth-in-company- with-dumb-ass." I listened to it and it had been obviously that it only had been his way to complain about his status at school and Newport. Nevertheless I've had some concerns, mainly since when my son had become one of those who didn't care about others. He didn't use to.

"Seth, he's not disabled." I had tried to explain him. I hadn't wanted him to give the boy a hard time at our house. I had been afraid it might cause only more trouble and yes I hadn't been sure if leaving the two alone then had been such a good idea.

"Didn't you say that he's mute"

"Yes, I did. But he's not disabled. Listen: physically a can speak. He just doesn't. That's a huge difference."

"Man is he screwed." Yes, at that point my son had been speaking out loud what I've been thinking, since the trip from New York to here. This kid was screwed and my Mum demanded me to unscrew him.

"He's not screwed."

"And what about this: he's too afraid of people thing?"

"Seth, just be a little nice to him. Don't let him notice, what you think about him, deal?"

"Deal." And then I had to leave. I've been praying that this was going to work out at home. In my head countless scenarios were taking place. I rather had wanted to turn around and stay at home. But on the other hand, my son would have felt I didn't trust him and who knew if things had turned out that way.

* * *

I've been pretty bored that morning. I can tell you, vacations alone is no fun and I forgot to go to the mall at weekend, what meant I hadn't had the new skater game for my play station yet. So my life pretty much sucked then. I didn't plan to go to the pool house. Why would I? There had been a stranger and I wasn't going to help out some screwed up kid. I had enough problems on my own. But hell, maybe I'm a little nosey, so after I've waited…I guess it had been five minutes I went to the pool house. I had to know how a freak like that looked like. I hadn't known that he was looking pretty normal according to his disability.

"Hello?" There had been nobody in the pool house. I had thought he might have run. I hadn't cared if he had done. I didn't know him and I didn't want to know him. He just had been some stranger.

"Is here anybody?" I had called out again. Then the bathroom door had opened and there he had been. I've felt a little intimidated by all his muscles and he didn't look like one who was afraid of people or just stopped talking because of something. I had been afraid of him. Who knew what someone like him is capable of? Okay, most of people looking like him use to pee into my sneakers and belong to the water polo team. So I had more reason to be afraid. When he had seen me, he immediately had looked away. I felt pissed. He didn't even know me and already didn't pay any attention to me.

"So you are Ryan?" I had asked. I wouldn't let him get away with that behaviour. This was my home. He only had nodded.

"Oh…okay…uhm I'm Seth." I had wanted to shake hands. You know how you do it, if you introduce yourself to someone. But he just stepped away.

"Man you're really screwed. If you have had a look at me, you would know I have no chance, alright? I just wanted to ask whether you would like to go on a sailing trip with me. Don't worry I don't care that you're disabled and screwed. They say I'm a geek so I'm pretty much screwed too. It might be a little crowded at the pier, but we won't meet anyone on the ocean, so don't worry. Also you're with me, so I don't think anyone will look at you. Is some kind of natural law in Newport: don't look at Seth Cohen and his geek. Okay, you're my first geek. But hey, what do you think?" Well he hadn't been looking directly at me, but his head had been lifted, I guess he had stared at something in the pool house, but I have no idea what it had been. Nevertheless he had seemed a little flattened by my speech. I should have controlled it. I mean if someone doesn't talk, it's clear that he doesn't know that some people can talk a lot. So he had been looking a little confused, but I'm used to those looks.

"So, what do you think?" He only had shrugged his shoulders. Then I noticed that, when he was from New York, it might be possible that he hadn't been sailing before.

"Have you ever been sailing?" I had asked him and he had shook his head. "Alright then let's grab something to eat and let's go." I had thought that he despite being afraid of everything and mute maybe also had been dumb, as he stood there in the room.

"Hell, what are you waiting for?" And then he followed me into the kitchen.

"So, what do you want to eat, we have bagels, cereals and…I dunno. That's pretty much what I eat as breakfast, but you can have something else if you want to." I explained him. I hadn't wanted to be the reason for him dying because of hunger. I picked a bowl and poured some cereals and milk into it.

"Okay Ryan I explain it to you once again: there's the coffee, here we have cereals and milk and there you can find bowls and mugs. So just go and take what you want." I never have seen someone with such a body but that shy. But eventually he had understood and when I pointed at the stool next to me he even sat down - in my opinion a huge development within a few seconds. But what do I know.

"So you're from New York?" I had asked him. He had nodded. It felt strange, as he had been listening to everything I was saying – and that doesn't happen a lot, honestly, sometimes I think my parents don't even listen to everything I'm telling – but he didn't look at me.

"From the Bronx?" He had nodded again. "Cool, I mean…you know my Dad grew up there too. Is it like in all those hip hop gangster videos, you know Fifty Cent and co? Hot chicks and cars and stuff?" He shook his head. "Right, just some way to make people think hip hop is cool. So, do you like it here?" He had shrugged his shoulders. "Of course, you haven't seen a lot. So, let's go. I show you Newport and California. Have you – not that I want to be mean or something – ever been at the beach or the cost or at the ocean, on the ocean, something like that?" He shook his head. "Then don't waste any time." And then we went off. It had been a little difficult. I really had underestimated his fear of crowded places. I mean the way to the pier went quite well, but when we reached it, it became a little dramatic.

"C'mon Ryan. Don't worry. Nobody will even pay attention to you." He had stood in one corner between the banister and a shop. It had been really pitiful. Hell, I've seen the people looking at him. I swear they had been afraid and they had a lot reason to, I mean only look at him.

"Okay, you either get out of there and come with me on your own, or I'll have to take you by your hand, but that'll look pretty much gay. I mean my reputation is already, not existing. But yours is in a real threat. So c'mon." I don't think I had taken him by his hand although I've been dangerously close to do so. It had worked and Ryan had followed me to the Summer Breeze. Hell he really must have been in panic. He had been sweating and heavy breathing and so on. But I must say he is a sailing talent.

"Know what? I really want to go to the east cost. You have seasons there, other people and it's far away from here. I really don't like to be here. Don't get me wrong. I'm not ungrateful or something. It just sucks to be the only one being like me. I hate to stay alone all day – no friends and my parents always at work. I don't know can you understand that?" I had asked and I felt relieve as he nodded. We took the whole noon with sailing and my threat really had worked, as he didn't try to hide himself on our way back. I had stopped at a shop.

"You wanna wait outside?" He had nodded. "Okay, but don't even try to run, because then my father is going to kill me and I don't think you want to be responsible for my death or?" He had waited. When I came back I just handed him a scratchpad and a pen.

"Here, if don't want to talk is okay, but I'm sure you can write. And…you know I like to talk, but it's a little one-dimensional if only I'm the one providing you with info. Thus you can in somehow tell me something too. I'm a good reader and I won't grump if you have a chicken scratch. And the best of all, you can put in your pocket and take it everywhere." I had said. He had opened the scratchpad and answered with a simple _thanks_. I've never felt so good with receiving an answer. I mean it only had been written, but I've been the one he had started to communicate with. I had the impression as if he had started to relax a little. Not that he had been hundred percent okay, but I think it could have been a twenty.

It had been really cool being able to spend the day with him and when we found our way of communication I realized he wasn't like the others. He didn't write something annoying and the way he looked like, he could have been capable of. I wouldn't have been able to defend myself. But then these freaks from the water polo team appeared. This only had been asking for trouble.

"Hey Cohen bitch. What are you doing here? The geek stores are at the other end of the town." I don't need to explain why I hate Luke Ward, do I?

"Yeah, Hi Luke. Nice to meet you too."

_Who's that?_ It had been Ryan's idea to write this down and ask. I hadn't had a hand in this, I promise.

"Just someone from school."

"Hey, you have a new friend? Looks like a pussy." Luke had asked on.

_Asshole?_

"Yeah, something in that way. Let's go." I had dragged him with me. I feared something might happen, because Ryan didn't look too happy about what Luke had said then.

"Hey is your pussy dumb or why can't he speak."

"Don't listen to him, just let's go home."

_Shell I kick his ass?_

"Well, thanks for your offer and I really appreciate it, but better not." I had trouble to make him calm. I swear he really had been close to punch Luke right in the face. He didn't. But he had been the first one who had been defending me. I can't even explain how it felt. Someone I didn't even know wanted to help me. It had been an amazing feeling. I don't know why, but it had been as if there had been something between us - I don't want to sound gay – but it really felt as if something had been connecting us.


	6. Something

**A/N.:** Okay, I tried to correct most if the mistakes and I'm really sorry for the mess I produced. I feel ashamed and hope you can forgive me for that.

* * *

**_6. Something_**

I found both boys playing video games when I came home. I have had some concerns, but the picture I have been watching, filled my heart with happiness. For the first time since we've been here my son has been sitting in our living room with another teenager and was having fun. I could have watched the scene for hours. He has been laughing and talking to the boy next to him. He didn't care whether the boy next to him was a bunch of problems and fears. He just took him as he was and I was proud of him. My son has the heart in the right place.

"Hey boys." I greeted them eventually.

"Hey Mum." My son greeted back. The boy had been gotten up from the floor and already been on the way out.

"No…Ryan you don't have to leave only because I'm here. You can just stay and play on with Seth." I told him. He hesitated. He hasn't looked at me and I asked myself whether he was able to. He hadn't been.

"C'mon Ryan, my Mum won't harm you or something…despite when she tries to cook something, but I don't think this will happen in the next decades." My son intervened.

"Very friendly son." I only answered. It had been when I noticed that Seth was able to make the atmosphere between the boy and me or the boy and my husband lighter. He was making the boy feeling a little more comfortable.

When my husband came home, the boy must have decided it was too crowded for him, because he had disappeared in the pool house, without us noticing and I've been in the same room with him. The boy really has been able to make him invisible and I felt a little sorry for him, but I couldn't help him then. We decided not to force him to be social. After what our son had told us, it seemed as if he had been more social than necessary. But it had shown me that the boy in somehow was willing to meet us somewhere. He at least tried to and after what my husband had told me, we should acknowledge this development. Sophie had called either and when we told her about Seth's and Ryan's day she sounded amazed. She had said that she knew from the very beginning that we could be able to help him. Unfortunately with this day we only had made a little step forward. We had to get the boy writing down a testimony, probably something traumatic. I still have thought he should have send into some institution that has skilled staff to care for such a boy. But the decision had been made and I had to accept it. My fear my son might get hurt through this didn't become true and I felt happy about that he hadn't has to spend the whole summer alone.

Later that evening I was the one going to the pool house and getting the boy inside for having dinner. My son had told me the boy only has had some small breakfast and my experience as a mother of a son who loves sailing, tells me one is starving after a day on the ocean. I went in and found the boy sitting in one of the basket chairs, his legs pulled up to his body as close as possible, his arms slung around his legs and his face hid between the knees. My heart clenched when I saw him like that. It only told me more how broke this kid had been.

"Hey Ryan." I've been very carefully. I had no idea what to do. I should have let my husband get the boy for dinner. But I hadn't wanted just to be the lady in the background. This was my home too, so he had to deal with me either. I only hadn't known how to deal with him, as he didn't seem to react after I called his name.

"Ryan? Are you okay?" I asked and stepped closer. I've only wanted to pet his leg, making him aware of my presence. Maybe he's asleep, I thought. My husband could have warned me that the boy was so jumpy. He immediately jumped up and fled into the next corner, his arms slung around himself.

"Okay, sorry. I didn't want to harm you…I…I didn't know that you don't like to be touched, I swear." I felt uncomfortable. "I just wanted to get you for dinner. Are you hungry?" I asked. The boy shook his head. His body had started to shake again and in somehow the urge to take him into my arms and tell him that everything was going to be alright again increased from second to second. If he only had been looking at me, instead of the carpet he was standing on. It's so hard to communicate with someone, who isn't looking into your eyes.

"Well not eating isn't happening here and don't say you have, because Seth told me you haven't eaten a lot all day. You must be hungry after a whole day sailing." I tried to sooth him. But how to sooth a kid you don't know? It's easy with Seth. I know what to say and what to do and he allows me to sooth him. This boy only stood there like a frightened and injured animal.

"Please Ryan. You can't hide in here for your whole stay. That's not good for you. I promise it'll only we: Seth and Sandy, you and me. You already know Seth and Sandy and I'm sure we'll get to know each other while dinner. Nobody's there who intends to harm you." I had to persuade him to come with me. I had to wait.

"Ryan?" I only asked. How have my boys been able to make him trust them?

"Kirsten what's…" My husband came in. I've been helpless at that point and had been grateful for him now taking the turn.

"I…I didn't know that…he doesn't like to be touched." I tried to explain my husband that I didn't plan to harm the boy.

"Kirsten is okay. I should have told you." He hadn't been mad at me and that had been the most important thing at that point. I've been too afraid my husband might be angry, because I had no idea how to handle such a hurt kid.

"Hey kid, don't worry. We just want you to join dinner with us. Nothing spectacular. Just our evening habit. We always sit down together for having dinner and it feels a little strange if we all sit together inside and eat and you are in here. I know you don't like to have too much company, but Seth told me you even managed a day at the pier. Then you should easily manage a dinner with us." I'm always envious of how my husband can talk. Yes he's a lawyer but my son has this gift too. Only I'm completely helpless if I have to talk to someone and make him do something. Well, that's not true. In my job I manage to do so, but in cases like this I'm just unskilled.

"C'mon Ryan, you want to spend some more time with Seth, do you?" My husband asked. The boy nodded. I still wonder how he had been able to read the boy, although he had built such a close wall around himself.

"And Seth wants to spend some time with you, but then you have to come in again, have dinner with us and then you two can go on, with whatever you've stopped with. Does this sound okay with you?" In somehow this had reminded me how I used to treat Seth when he had been my little young Seth. Well, okay the way how my husband had been speaking to the boy was a more mature one, but in somehow it was the same way.

"Okay, then let's go." My husband said. Then we both went out and the boy followed us slowly, his head ducked. He had tried so despairingly to be invisible that it only hurt. What must have happened to him that he felt so insecure and uncomfortable around people? I mean, I don't think that we make the impression as if we would hurt someone or?

Dinner went quiet or better without any other incidents. Seth and my husband started their usual talk and Ryan and I have been listening. Ryan hadn't been eating a lot, but my husband had told me that the boy wasn't much of a good eater and so I didn't push him.

Ryan helped me cleaning up the dinner table. He had been carefully with not looking at me or stepping into my way. After we've finished he shoved a scratchpad towards me.

_Sorry_

I looked at him, because it took a little until I understood what he meant.

"You mean because of a little while ago?" I asked him and he nodded. At this point I realized what a kind-hearted boy he was. He only had been really afraid of everything.

"Already forgotten. But I hope you can understand that really nobody here wants to hurt you. You're here, because it's safe." I told him, rubbing his upper arm. His body had been fully tensed up and I noticed that he squinted his eyes. But I felt how hard he tried.

"Sorry, just some kind of mother reflex." I apologized and he disappeared in the pool house again. I asked myself what must have happened to a boy that makes him that afraid of a gentle touch.

"What was that?" My husband asked.

"What?"

"What I've seen looked like he's starting to relax a little. How did you do that?" My husband had been surprised. Of course, after what had happened earlier it was weird that it was me who he allowed to touch. But there had been something between him and me. I don't know what it was. It just…I didn't feel as if I've been talking to a stranger or to the criminal boy I thought he was. There was some connection that made me wanting to help him, to make him feel better in any way.

"Here." I showed him the scratchpad. No, I hadn't thought that we could be able to handle such a boy. But because of some mystery we could. And it felt good, to be able to help someone, only by letting him stay at your house, give him something to eat and telling him something nice.

"That's our way of communication." My son has come in and took the scratchpad. "Sorry, but we'll need it, if we want to discuss the new Legion." He said.

"Just…what?" My husband even looked more stunned.

"Okay, we've been at the pier and I have been bored only talking about myself. Believe it or not, I really want to know something about him. But he wouldn't talk to me, so I bought this scratchpad and a pen and now we can communicate." He has explained as if this was nothing.

"You know that no psychologist in New York had managed to get the boy to communicate, do you?" My husband asked astonished. This had been the proof that there was something between all of us and the boy. We managed to make him relax. Around us he acted nearly naturally, despite his not looking and his not talking. I still can't describe what it had been. I only can remember the feeling of completeness. I had the feeling as if before something had missing and now where he had been with us, this missing piece was back in its place. It sounds stupid I know, but that had been what I felt about him. He had made us complete. Maybe it has been the mission that we all had: making him feel better, talk and open up a little more.

"Well, I don't know. But I don't care as long as I'm allowed to spend my vacation with him, as you both are too busy to do so." My son said and then went to the pool house.

"This works better than I've thought." My husband said and I only could agree. I only nodded.

"Mum, Dad!" We heard our son screaming into the silence. We jumped of with a start and ran to the pool house. Our son stood there trembling and his face pale.

"What's wrong?"

"He…he…he's vomiting blood." When he had said those words I haven't known what to do. My mind went blank. I never have seen someone throwing up blood before. I couldn't imagine that it was possible. I only knew that it must be dangerous. I ran into the bathroom. The boy had been heaving violently.

"Ryan?" I asked him. I wanted to rub his back, but it had been wet and sticky and he flinched as my hand only came a little closer to his back. I haven't known what it had been. Instead I had placed my hand in his neck. An unnatural heat radiated from him and indeed he was throwing up blood.

"Sandy, you told me a doctor had been checking on him." I've been confused. How had a doctor been able not to see that there was something wrong with this boy?

"That's what my Mum told me."

"And why is he puking blood?" I had screamed at him. The boy obviously was in pain, because every heave was followed by a moan.

"I don't know, but we have to take him to hospital." It took some time, until the boy stopped heaving and slummed down exhausted.

"Ryan, did you listen? We need to get you to hospital. You might me seriously injured." I tried to explain him, but he shook his head vigorously. I saw that he was deadly frightened by this idea. I looked at my husband who kneeled down to us.  
"Kid, don't worry. I promise we'll take care that nobody will hurt you. But you need to see a doctor. You only harm yourself unnecessarily more." Nothing happened. But it had been obviously that the boy wasn't in a good shape. He had needed medical treatment.

"Okay, if you don't come voluntarily we'll have to call an ambulance to come here." I said and got up. I only looked at the boy and eventually he got up on his feet. We had tried to support him, as he already started swaying, but he didn't allow us to support him. It had been we all four. Our son sat in the backseats with Ryan and watched whether it was getting any worse. I have no idea how long it had taken us to reach the ER. I only know how glad I've been when we arrived there. The boy has already seemed as if he was going to collapse every second, but he didn't let us help. A nurse had led us to an examining room - our son staid outside. The boy started shaking again and tried to hide in his usual position. We hadn't to wait long for a doctor.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Martin. What happened?" A tall man asked us.

"We don't know exactly what happened, but this evening the boy started to vomit blood." My husband has explained.

"Okay, we'll examine him." The doctor said.

"Can I stay?" My husband asked. He might be right maybe it was better if someone stayed with the boy.

"Are you related to him?"

"No, but I'm his lawyer. He's currently in my custody. The injuries might be the result of some issues that might be related to his case." My husband explained further.

"Okay, but stay out of our way." And then I went out. I sat down next to my son. It had been silent in the ER. But the silence got disturbed by yelling and screaming and rumbling – as if someone was busy with dissembling one of these examining rooms.

It had been awful to witness what was happening. The doctor only had slightly touched the boy, but the kid jumped up and stepped back into one corner of the room.

"Ryan, don't worry. He only wants to see what's wrong with you. You can trust me and him." I tried to sooth him, but he didn't listen.

"Ryan, you only need to pull off your t-shirt." The doctor stepped towards him and tried to pull the t-shirt off of the boy. It had been a bad mistake. The boy took one metal bowl and threw it through the room with a loud rambling.

"Okay, this is not going to work this way. Uh…Mr." The doctor turned to me.

"Cohen."

"Mr. Cohen, can you try to hold him as tight as possible? I need to get him calm." I understood what it meant and my heart clenched. I had wanted to save the boy this. But I never have seen such an aggressive boy before. I stepped closer to Ryan. My luck that he had forced himself into this corner.

"Ryan, I won't hurt you. You can trust me. I haven't hurt you yet and I won't." This time my words didn't help. He threw things after me, but he didn't hit me with anything. I stepped closer and closer. I reached after his arm. His body was tensed up that bad that he was shaking badly.

"No!" The boy started to screamed. Loud, aggressive. It had been the first time I heard his voice. It was strong. I didn't pay much attention to it. The boy fought my grip and I had enough luck for grabbing his other arm, before he could start to become a real danger to me.

"NO!" He screamed again and I hear that he was close to burst into tears.

"I won't hurt you. You only need to become calm. Nobody will hurt you. Why don't you believe me?" I tried to sooth him. He fought me. My luck that the boy had been sick and not being eating a lot. I had been able to press him tight against my body. He still had been fighting me but his strength left him and what remained was a violently shaking body. It can also be that he only gave himself up to me. I felt that his back had been hot – too hot. The doctor came towards us, with a syringe in his hand. I took the boy's head and pressed it against my chest. I used to do so with my son. He always had been afraid of needles, maybe still is. The doctor injected some liquid into the boy's upper arm. Slowly his body started to relax and only a few minutes later he was dead weight. The doctor and I managed to lay him onto a gurney were the doctor started to pull up the boy's shirt. I'll never forget the expression on the boy's face – the boy who had been so helpless against what was happening to him.

"Shh, it'll be over soon." I tried to comfort him. He only squint his eyes when the doctor started examining him by touching and pressing his belly and doing an ultrasound.

"Sorry, but I can't diagnose any abnormality, despite a high temperature. Had he been vomiting a lot lately?" The doctor asked.

"I don't know. He came to us yesterday and on our way from New York here he has thrown up once. I can't explain it myself, as my…the social worker said he had been examined by a doctor."

"Well, I have to examine is whole upper body." The doctor said. I carefully lifted the boy's body. We only wanted to pull his t-shirt off. His scream put my teeth on the edge.

"Okay, there's definitely something hurting him. Can…you help me to turn him?" The doctor asked and I still wish I hadn't. His back was nothing but burst skin and it seemed as if it had been bust to the bone on some places. As I saw it, my stomach started to turn. Deep, long, alarming red lashes.

"Oh my God. This can pretty much explain his fever and the vomiting." The doctor said. The boy started shaking again and his breath went fast and heavy.

"Is…okay kid, they're going to help you." I tried to sooth him. But I started to feel sick. I've never seen something like that before. A nurse entered the room with a second doctor and soon the room had been busy.

"Don't panic. They are all here to help you. They want to take your pain away." I told him. I watched a nurse set up an IV line in his hand. She injected something into it.

"You better leave now. We'll have to clean these wounds and examine him further. But don't worry, we're putting him asleep. He won't notice anything." I only nodded and went out. My stomach didn't seem to get calm again. I needed some fresh air. What I've seen only a few minutes ago just had been disgusting.

"Hey, what happened in there?" My wife had come out and asked. I wasn't sure whether to tell her. This had shaken the world I lived in – the one we lived in, the one we used to live in. Of course I've read about those things, I've seen reports about it in TV, but I never had been faced with it – not like that. It never regarded me.

"He…freaked out. Seems as if he doesn't like hospitals and doctors." I only answered. I had to sort my thoughts.

"Had…the screaming and yelling that had been him?" It had been as loud as it had seemed. It occurred to me that they boy was broke – really broke. And I was supposed to help him? I didn't have the skills for such a job. I only was a lawyer and a husband and a father. What the boy needed had been someone who knew how to deal with such a mental damage. The small improvements he had made, since he had come to stay with us started to seem like nothing.

"Yes."

"I thought he was mute."

"He is, but it's nothing physical. He must have been in a lot of fear and panic, when he reacted that way. That's what I guess."

"What are you thinking about?"

"That I don't think that I can help him. He needs professional help. I'm the wrong person for this job." My thoughts, my feelings, everything had been a chaos only after what I've seen a few minutes before.

"Sandy what's wrong with you? You never give up and not that early." My wife had asked. It had been the famous last straw.

"I can't handle this…it's too much. I can't cope with him and with what he probably had gone through." I had screamed. I was angry. I had no control of my emotions and of myself and only because of some wounds, I whish I've never seen.

"But Sandy, just think about what might all happen to him, if you don't help him, if you give up now and leave him on his own resources. Sandy he's a kid and I'm sure he's neither responsible for what had happened to him nor for what he's accused for. No matter what the attorney in New York says. And it's your job to evidence it." It had been surprising to hear those words from my wife. It usually was my job to step in for other in that way, my job to defend others in front of her. I hadn't even noticed that she had started to care for the boy. She has had too many concerns as if I had thought she would lose them and then only in two days.

Again I had to notice that there was something about the boy that attached all of us.

"Mr. Cohen," The doctor had come out, "we have examined the boy closely. There's no internal injury, neither are there bruises that show that he was punched or kicked into the stomach. Thus I only can think of that he might have swallowed some blood, maybe due nose bleeding. He has suffered a sepsis due the injuries on his back, but it had been found early enough so that the boy is out of danger now. We've cleaned out the wounds and…I think you want to know that these injuries are typical for…lashing with belts. We want to keep the boy as the some of the wounds are pretty deep and worse inflamed than some others. We…" I can't imagine the rest of what the doctor had said. I only had been asking myself how it had been possible that the doctor in New York hadn't seen anything of it and I had been too concerned about my wife who stood next to me. She never had been faced with this either and now we both had to deal with this in somehow. I only had hopped that she started to understand me.


	7. Try to

_**7. Try to**_

And I had thought this only happens in books by Charles Dickens. I never had thought it could happen in reality. I don't know what I felt, when we had been told about it. It was a mix of anger and fury, but also sadness and concern. It's not easy for a mother's heart to handle something like that. I'm just unable to believe someone is able to hurt a boy like that. I mean sure, kids can provoke one to the edge and that you have to react on it is understandable, but hurting a kid that bad? Suddenly it occurred to me why the boy stayed mute and had been afraid of the lightest touch. He just had been trying not to get hurt. My husband and I had decided that it was better if we didn't let the boy alone. He might have freaked out, when he woke up. We felt he needed someone who explained – not only told - him that everything was going to be okay and that he was safe. It had been my husband staying due the night and it had been my job to explain our son. Well, I left out this belt thing and only told him that Ryan was very bad injured and that it was why he had thrown up. I even let out the thing that he might have been…not might, but was injured through abuse. I don't think a boy in my son's age can handle it, if his friend has gone through violence and abuse. Yes, friends had already been the best description for their relationship. I know it only had been a day, but I saw in my son's eyes that he liked the boy and I've been sure the boy liked my son too. Why else did he start to communicate with my son first? There must have been a bond of trust between them both. I've been glad my son has found someone in his age he could talk to. I know in this age you don't like to talk to parents about everything.

The next morning I've been on my way to the hospital to see how my husband was doing and the boy. I entered the room. My husband was sitting in one of these uncomfortable chairs beside the bed. The boy hadn't woken up yet. They must have pumped him full with drugs.

"Hey, any news?" I asked my husband and stepped next to him. He looked exhausted. It had been a long and rough night. He only shook his head. I looked at the boy. He looked so miserable and pale. He looked broke and fragile. He looked as if he had been through a lot of pain.

"Know what, why don't you go home and get a shower, maybe take a nap? I can take care of him now and when he wakes up I call you. Okay?" I was worried my husband might be expecting too much from himself.

"Do you think you can handle this?" He asked me.

"I think so. Just go." Then he went off and I've taken a seat in this plastic chair. I had brought something to read, thus the waiting didn't get too long. My reading got disturbed by some soft noise. I looked up to see that the boy was waking up. I go a little closer to him – mother's reflex. I wanted to let him know that he didn't need to be afraid of anything, that he wasn't alone. I watched his eyes slowly open. It had been the first time I saw how blue and big they were. I only had seen them for the split of a second as he when he saw me closed them immediately and turned his head away. But this had been enough for me to see sadness and despair, hurt and pain. It had been the moment in which I wished for nothing but being able to protect him, to make everything undone.

"Hey sweetie, everything's okay. Here's nobody who'll hurt you." I tried to sooth him. I gently stroked over his cheek. He flinched violently, as usual. But it didn't hinder me. I wanted to force him to realize that we didn't want to hurt him. I wanted to force him to believe me.

"Okay, I tell the doctor that you're awake." I told him and went out. After I told a nurse that the boy was awake, I called my husband. Then I went back. A nurse had been busy to change the bandages on his back. Well, she had been busy to make him hold still that she was able to do so. He flinched, and shifted away from her. I had to step in. I went to him.

"Honey, she only wants to change the bandages on your back. Otherwise it's getting worse and you get only sicker." I took his hand and rubbed the back of it, but he pulled it away and hid it under the pillow. I stroke the bangs out of his face, but he turned it away. I don't know how, but I managed to distract him from the nurse. I saw how she dropped one bandage soaked with blood and some ugly looking liquid into a metal bowl after another. After that I understood how my husband must have felt. The stinking smell of disinfection and iodine made the sick feeling in my stomach worse. I concentrated on the boy. I stroked his cheek, he flinched. I stroked through his hair, his body tensed up and he closed his eyes shut. I watched how the nurse started to put fresh bandages on the wounds. I saw how he clenched his jaw. He must have been in so much pain, but didn't say a word.

"Sorry, can you give him something against the pain, before you go on? I think it'll make the whole procedure easier." I asked the nurse. She had nodded and then injected something into the IV he still had in his hand.

"Shh, you'll feel betters soon." I soothed him. The nurse went on. It took a while, but eventually she left.

"Do you feel better?" I asked him and hoped he would give me some kind of answer, but he didn't.

"Ryan, we've been really worried. You should have said something…anything. If we had known we immediately could have helped you." I told him. I felt so bad for not recognizing that he had been that bad injured. But it's difficult if someone isn't communicating with you. But I should have noticed something. I am a mother and I am supposed to notice if a kid – even if it's not mine – is hurt and sick. A hundred self-reproaches swirled through my head. A kid was living at my home and I was supposed to notice things like that.

"Ryan I know you don't trust anyone. But you can trust us, Sandy, Seth and me. That's why Sophie decided you should stay with us. She hadn't let us take you in, if she hadn't been sure about that. I promise you as long as you stay with us we take care of that everything will be alright. You only need to tell us in somehow when you don't feel well and I don't only mean when you're in pain." I only hoped he had understood. Then I just sat by him. Of course he didn't talk, but he even didn't make any attempt to communicate. My husband entered the room.

"Hi." He greeted me. He looked fresher now.

"Hey, feel better?" I asked him.

"We better ask him this question." He answered and then turned to the boy. It had been a mistake. The boy visible panicked again. No matter to which side he turned now, he either had to face my husband or me. It took sometime until he decided to turn onto his stomach and bury his face in the pillow. I saw how my husband put the scratchpad and the pen onto the nightstand next to the bed. I didn't think we were able to get the boy to write down something for us.

"Ryan? What's wrong with you? Are you still mad with me? I promise I had to do so. Otherwise you only would have been unnecessarily in more pain and…kid you could have died. I couldn't allow that to happen." My husband explained himself. I so awfully had wanted to rub the boy's back to comfort him, but I couldn't. I started to feel helpless, a feeling I can't stand.

"Oh sweetie, what can we do to make you trust us that we really mean it? What those people have done is awful and I – we can understand that you're afraid. But we're there to help you now. I dunno in how many different sentences I need to explain it to you." I would have told him everything only to make him believe me, to make him trust us. A knock on the door interrupted us. It was the doctor.

"Hello, as I see Ryan's awake…is he in pain?" Of course he wondered why the boy was lying on his stomach.

"Uh…no he just feels more comfortable on his stomach." I tried to keep the doctor from some actions as the nurse had already given the boy something and I hadn't wanted to explain Ryan's story to this stranger.

"Oh…okay, well everything looks fine." He said.

"So, we can take him home." My husband concluded.

"Technically yes, but we'd like to keep him here over two more nights. His reaction when you brought him here gave us some reason to concern and I'd like him to talk to a therapist." When I had looked at my husband I saw, he either didn't think this was a good idea. We had to do something.

"The boy only had been a little stressed out. The last few days had been quite bad for him. He's stressed out. My…the social worker already told me that this has to be expected if another stressful situation occurs to him." My husband tried to explain. The boy never would have forgiven us if we had extradited him to a therapist. Okay, until then I doubted he ever forgives me for what I did.

"Okay, that sounds as if there's nothing to worry about. Nevertheless I would like to keep him two nights longer, only to make sure that this really only had been an exception. I'll leave you now. Just call me if you need something." The doctor said and then went off. We had luck that he bought our story. I don't want imagine what had happened, if the therapist had found out the boy wasn't talking or anything. And I don't want to imagine the boy's reaction. He already had been confronted with too many strangers. I doubted he could have handled more of them.

"Know what? I go and get you some other cloths. I can imagine you feel a little uncomfortable in this hospital gown, right?" I suggested. It had taken a few minutes but then the boy grabbed the scratchpad and the pen and scribbled something onto it. He handed it to my husband and I went to see what was on it.

_Thank you._

Two simple words and they still mean something to me. It had been when he started to accept our help. It had been his first step into our direction. He had started to trust us.

I went home and into the pool house. He hadn't unpacked his backpack. It had been the first time I've seen those books, but I hadn't paid a lot of attention to it. I thought it was some kind of diary, so I wasn't supposed to read it anyway.

That night it had been my turn to stay with the boy. I have no clue why I did so. It hadn't been my son. I should have been able to leave him alone in a hospital. But I couldn't and my husband neither. Imagining him being left alone in a surrounding that probably frightened him had been awful. So, I stayed over night. He was sceptical when I told him I was going to stay with him, but accepted it. I had brought him some comics from my son and thus we spend the evening reading. I fell asleep. I didn't even notice I did, as I think these chairs are awfully uncomfortable. Something woke me up. I took a look onto my watch. It had been in the middle of the night, but the boy wasn't sleeping. He sat on the bed in his usual position.

"Hey, can't you sleep?" I asked him. He shook his head.

"You don't sleep a lot, may it be?" Again he shook his head. "What's keeping you awake?" I asked him. I wanted him to talk to me, because I know from my son that it can help sleeping. But he only shrugged his head.

"Nightmares?" He nodded. "You're afraid of something, right?" Again he had nodded.

"You can talk to me about it, if you want to…or write. It can help to make you feel better." I said, but he didn't react. He hasn't known how to react. He never has had someone acting like this towards him.

"You know that not sleeping makes you sick?" He shrugged his shoulders. He hasn't cared about himself. For him it had always been the others. He hasn't known that he was worth being cared about either.

"Don't say you don't care that's no good attitude, not even for a teenager." I reproached him. I didn't like the way he acted about himself.

"And what shell we do now?" I asked him. I hadn't wanted him to stay awake all night.

"I could offer you a book about historical architecture. But I don't know if you're interested in it. I'm pretty much sure Seth would fall asleep over it. He's very good in drawing though, but architecture and blue prints aren't his world. He doesn't even like to watch all those old cathedrals and other buildings. So, if you aren't interested in it, it at least could help you to fall asleep." I suggested and handed him the book I've been reading. He carefully opened it and then looked at the pictures read what was written at the side of them. He took his scratchpad once again and started scribbling and then hesitatingly handed me the pad.

_Have you ever been in one of these places?_

"Well, I've been in France and seen the Louvre and Notre Dames. Then I've been in Spain in Barcelona. There you find a lot of interesting architecture like the Sagrada de família , Hospital de Sant Pau and Palau de la Música Catalan and don't forget the Museo d'Arte Contemporani de Barcelona – this one is not only interesting from the outside. I've also seen the Vatican in Rome or la Ciudad the Vieja in Cuba. But I guess I liked Barcelona most. There are so many of these historical buildings and museums about everything, arts, music, and drama, just everything. I guess you're used to all those huge buildings, as you're from New York, right?" He again started writing down something.

_Haven't even seen the Empire State Building or Brooklyn Bridge_

I think this had been the saddest statement I've ever read.

"Don't worry, I was born here and grew up here, but I've never been really at one of those famous bays with all the surfers. I guess it's normal if you don't pay too much attention to the sights of the city you live in." I tried to reduce his discomfort.

I don't know how, but I fell asleep again. When I woke up it already had been morning. The boy still was sitting on the bed, carefully reading the book. Now I had an explanation why he always looked that exhausted. My back and legs were one pain from the uncomfortable chair.

"Hey, how do you feel?" I asked him. He shrugged his shoulders. He had been resigned when it came to him and his wellbeing. I had no clue of what had caused all this.

This day had passed by quite fast. The boy even had cooperated, when the nurse came to change his bandages. Well, what did cooperate mean, he still hadn't been comfortable, but he knew if he had wanted to leave this place, he had to stay calm. Thus he did. In the evening my husband took the shift as watchdog.

* * *

My wife had told me that the boy didn't sleep a lot, thus I had been prepared when I woke up in the middle of the night and saw the boy in his usual ball-position. She also had filled me in into his increasing communication with us. This had been good news. Maybe I soon was able to talk to him about his testimony and what had happened that day, they found him in the basement.

"Can't you sleep?" I asked him and he shook his head. It was a stupid question, as it had been obviously that he couldn't sleep.

"I guess Kirsten already told you that not sleeping isn't good for you. Is there anything I can do to help you sleeping? Is there anything bothering you? Or just let me know what's keeping you awake." I asked on, but didn't expect an answer. The more surprised I've been, when he handed me the scratchpad.

_Too many thoughts, memories and stuff_

"Don't you think it was better if you talked about it?" He gave me something I could start to work with. I wouldn't get everything on one day, but this had been a start. I started to think that my Mum has had the right instinct in this. He took the scratchpad again and scribbled down something.

_I know what you want. You want to know what happened that one night and why I sold those drugs. But I can't tell you, not yet_

"Do you think you'll ever be able to? I don't want to rush you, but the attorney in New York won't wait for ever and if I shell get you out of trouble I need something that can persuade the judge." I watched is reaction. There was none, in somehow. But I didn't think that he would now start to tell me everything. Thinks like those needed time. The boy had needed time, a lot of time.

"I don't know whether you realized it, but since you came here, you made a lot of steps forward. That's good. Gives me a little hope I won't have to fight my disappointed Mum and I tell you, this woman can be really tough, when she's disappointed. Then she doesn't know any regrets." I told him. I and my wife, as well as our son, had gotten the impression that calm talking helped the boy in somehow. It has had a soothing effect. I hadn't known then, that he used said words to read people. I hadn't known that when he read something in someone, it was the truth. He had a real good sense for people.

"Well, my wife told me, if you can't sleep, I should give you this." I took a book out of a bag my wife had left. It had been one of her books about art history.

"She was wondering if you're maybe interested in this too. She told me to tell you that this is the fundament of modern architecture. So if you want to understand something about it, you need to read this. Honestly, I still don't know why my wife is so fond of all those blueprints and figures. But maybe you can tell me one day, what's interesting about it." I said and handed him the book. He again had taken the scratchpad. He had been thinking about, whether he should give it me to read or not, but eventually he decided to give it to me.

_You don't have to talk, due that kind of job and numbers don't hurt_

Numbers don't hurt. This sentence had been a huge statement and insight of what went on inside of the boy and what had happened in his past. I don't know if he knew what huge meaning was behind such a sentence or if he just had written it. Already this was a step into the direction that told me how to get the boy out of the attorney's clutches.

"That's true. Is this the reason why you aren't talking? Are you afraid you might say something wrong and make someone hurting you?" I know this had been a dangerous area, but I had to try it. He had gestured something that neither told me yes nor no. I just read it as a yes, as I had been sure he wouldn't tell me the bare truth.

"Ryan, nobody of us will hurt you only because of something you say. Do you understand me?" I asked and he nodded. "Do you believe me?" I hadn't gotten any reaction to that. I accepted it as a no.

The next morning we eventually could take the boy home, there had only been one problem.

"Ryan, I know it's going to be hard for you, but you need to trust us. We only can take you out of here when you allow us to treat the wounds on your back. I know you don't like this idea, but we don't want them to inflame again. If they do, you'll end up here again and then we have to explain the doctor why. So do you think you can trust us in this?" It had taken a while, but the he had handed me the scratchpad.

_Try to_

"Okay, that's start." It had been sure that he won't say yes. But these two words had shown me that we hadn't done everything wrong regarding to the boy. The feeling that my Mum might have been right increased.


	8. Punch

**A/N.: **Sorry for the late update, but I'm pretty busy in the moment and I started working on a little fluffy Cohens + 1 story. So be nice ;) Thanks for all the reviews, they remind me not to forget my work around here.

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_**8. Punch**_

Man I've been glad when my parents brought Ryan home again. With him things were just more fun. My parents had only told me that he had become sick, because of some inflamed wounds, but told me not to bother him with it. I think they only wanted me not to touch any sore points, as we didn't know Ryan well enough then. So Ryan came home and he looked much better than the night we had to take him to hospital. I had decided he needed to get out, after being in hospital for nearly three days, he had to see something else than four walls. We went to the pier. He had started to deal better with all those people around there. Okay, he still had been a little jumpy, but hey, I hadn't to threat him to come with me. We went to the dinner. They serve the best chilli fries there. Unfortunately there had been those guys from the water polo team of my school. I don't care whether they bully me at school,…well yes I care, but I care less about it than when they start bulling me even in my vacations. That's unfair. But I hadn't cared. I thought I had a right being there as well. We sat down and well started to talk, you know I talked and Ryan wrote. It had been the first time he really participated in our conversation. He used to write a sentence or a word, but this time I had the feeling as if he had been more open than he used to. He had told me about his life in New York that he used to play basketball and soccer there, that he also has had not a lot of friends there, that he liked to stay on his own there. I had been amazed to find out that we have so much in common. I felt quite good, when he told me all those things. I mean I had been the first one he really had been talking to. The chilly fries tasted a lot better. Unfortunately Luke and his friends entered the dinner too. I only need to see this guy and know that there is trouble coming up to me, also this time. I've been glad that I already had paid and we headed towards the door. I haven't been in the mood for one of this guy's attacks.

"Look who there, dead-bred-Seth and his disabled puppy." I had wished Ryan had been deaf too. I didn't want him to listen to all of this. I'm used to things like that, but with Ryan I hadn't been sure.

"Don't listen to him." I told him and then went on. But Luke had stepped into our way. He looked like he was going to punch someone. I really have been afraid of him. We tried to get out, but this hadn't been possible. Then Luke just started pushing me around. It didn't hurt, though but I didn't like it. Nobody likes being pushed around or?

"Would…could you just stop it?" I asked them friendly, as I didn't want to make them even more aggressive, although I don't think that there is a chance to lighten their aggressions.

"Why should we?"

"Because it would be so clichéd if you went on." I should have saved myself this sentence.

"Know what? We let you go and have some fun with your little friend." This had been disgusting. I mean, it had been obvious to them that Ryan wasn't a match to them…although he wasn't disabled just…or let me call it mental disabled…no…emotionally…at least not like the other disabled kids.

"No." I said and then Luke had punched me, I stumbled back into Ryan. I've never seen such glare before. I have been able to see the rage in his eyes – real rage. He had taken me aside and then had stood face to face with Luke. Man I had so no clue of what had been going on. He just had watched into Luke's face.

"Hey, do you have a problem?" Luke asked and then caught a punch from Ryan straight into his face. He had stumbled backwards and fell onto his ass – sorry his butt. Luke never fell. It just had been impossible that this had happened. But it had. Unfortunately Luke's friends started to be angry with us. They launched after Ryan, punched him, but he stood there as if nothing had happened and I'm sure they had punched him. He just stood there, like an oak and then they started to get angry. They punched Ryan, pushed me around and then Ryan went riot. I swear if I had known that this was possible I had dragged him out of the dinner. He had taken one guy after another. One punch and they went to the ground. Well, Ryan caught some punches too and at the end he fell too, but he always got back onto his feet again. It had been the worse fight I've seen. I never had imaged something like that was possible and everything, only because of me? I never have had someone defending me to others before. Although it had been violent, it had been a very good experience. Luke and his crew decided to piss off and Ryan and I did too. His nose had been bleeding and I saw he was going to have a black eye within the next view hours.

"Here." I handed him a tissue for his nose.

"I hope it's not broken." I saw Ryan shaking his head and I hadn't been sure, why he was that sure about that.

"Did you ever have a broken nose, to know that?" I asked and he nodded. I hadn't known about his past then. We went home. I didn't talk anymore. I have been gobsmacked. We came home and my parents had been there. My parents never used to be home before seven in the evening and it hadn't been even five. Of course they had seen my face and Ryan's.

"What had happened?" My mother asked immediately and rushed towards me, to have a close look onto my cheek.

"Oh honey, this needs ice." She said and came back a few seconds later with an ice pack. Then she rushed to Ryan. She should have cared on his front first as I hadn't caught as much punches as he did.

"Ryan! Your…face…I'm not sure whether ice is enough. You might have something broken." She had handed him an ice pack too.

"I think we need to go back to the hospital again." She said, but Ryan had shaken his head.

"Ryan, you might have broken something." She said, but Ryan had shaken his head.

"You don't know, whether something is broken." My Mum replied. At that point I thought it was necessary to help Ryan.

"He does. He already has had a broken nose. I think he knows how it feels when it's broken."

"But I don't think he has had a broken cheek bone, as his left cheek his quite thick." My Mum responded. Ryan only nodded.

"You had a broken cheekbone?" My Mum asked, not believing what Ryan had answered. But he answered with nodding to her question.

"Okay, but if it's tomorrow still that swollen you have to see a doctor." My Mum insisted.

"Do you now want to tell us, what had happened?" My Dad got involved.

"We met Luke in the dinner. He hadn't allowed us to leave and then said some stupid things to me and Ryan. He and his friends started pushing me around and he said he would stop if he got Ryan instead. I didn't agree to it and he punched me. Ryan really only had been defending me, when he punched Luke and himself as the others started to punch him. We didn't start this fight." I explained them. I had been afraid they might blame Ryan for what had happened and this wouldn't have been fair.

"But why would Luke things like that?" My Mum asked.

"Why does he piss into my sneakers? I have no idea. I only know that we left the dinner to prevent any trouble. It didn't work and you can't blame us for that."

"I believe you, but Ryan you can't punch other people no matter what they do. You have to solve conflicts like that in another way." My Dad told him. In my opinion this had been a little out of place, as we hadn't any other chance than this. I only saw that Ryan scribbled something on the scratchpad and then handed it to my Dad. I saw what Ryan had written when my Dad put the scratchpad on the table.

_But he had hurt your son_

"I know. But you could have called help instead of beating up a whole group. I don't blame you for this. I can understand why you did so, but you have to be aware of your situation. If someone tries pressing charges against you, it'll be even harder for me to help you in this thing you're involved or not involved. We shouldn't give the attorney in New York the proof that you're a criminal who's capable of something like that." My Dad said. I had no idea what he had been talking about then. I only saw Ryan nodding. He looked…sad. I had known that my father had acted a little rude this time. Ryan really only had tried to help me. He hadn't deserved this lecture. But I couldn't change what had happened. Then we all stood there, saying nothing. As if everybody had been afraid of doing something.

"Okay I guess this had been enough. The boys need to treat their wounds. I would suggest Seth goes into his room and I check on you and Ryan, can go to the pool house or be company with Seth, what he wants, but I have to treat the wounds on your back as well." My Mum just said and then I went off and Ryan too, into the pool house. I had the feeling as if he had changed. He had been too quiet. Not that he had been loud, but his behaviour had changed. His head had been ducked more and he had carefully avoided any eye contact – more than he used to. I had the feeling as if my Dad's lecture had damaged something. But I don't know what it had been.

"What did you think you were doing?" I asked my husband. I had noticed that while my husband had been lecturing the boy, Ryan become smaller and smaller as if he tried to become even more invisible. He had been afraid that was for sure. But that had been wrong. We took the boy in, to make him feel safe to make him trust us, thus somebody was able to help him.

"The boy is endangering every of my opportunity to help him. If the boy get's charged for assault, it'll be nearly impossible to get the boy out of the mess he's in."

"But do you really believe, regarding to his behaviour that the boy is able to sell drugs? I mean voluntarily? " I didn't do so. The boy had been too withdrawn, too afraid of anything to do so. The boy tried to avoid anything that can produce trouble. Why else didn't he talk? I knew that the boy hadn't been able of dealing with drugs. I just knew it.

"I don't know what I shell believe and what not. On the one hand I can't believe he would do something like that voluntarily. On the other hand, I have nothing that can prove this. Maybe he's just a wolf in sheep's clothing. I really can't say anything about what I believe and what not." My husband answered. I hadn't been satisfied. I was angry about his reaction. I went upstairs to my son to check on him. He definitely was getting a black eye due the punch. I went in.

"Hey honey, how do you feel? Do you have a headache or something?" I asked him. He had shaken his head.

"Your Dad didn't want to be mean to Ryan. He's only concerned." I told him.

"I know. I still can't believe that Ryan tried to defend me. He really has had my back. Nobody ever has done something like that for me before." He said to me. I had some curious feeling about the two of them. No not curious. In somehow I had been happy that my son had made this kind of experience, which told him that it wasn't his fault that he had no friends at school.

"You seem to become real good friends, do you?" I asked him and then his expression turned even sadder than before.

"Yeah, the only problem is that he has to go back to New York, when Dad has done his job." It had broken my heart, when he said this. I felt so bad for having him dragged into this area – Newport - without warning before, without thinking what it might mean for him. I'm really sorry for him and if I had been able to, I would have done everything to change his situation.

"But you still can stay friends." I tried to sooth him.

"Yeah, it's only getting a little difficult to hang out with him." He never was optimistic in cases like this and I wished it had been different. But he was right and who knew whether a friendship over a long distance really could be held upright.

"You can visit him." I suggested. I hadn't thought about how smart my boy is.

"Mum, being honest: when Dad is finished with his job, Ryan either ends up in Juvies or in a foster home. How shell I am able to visit him?" He had been right. It had sounded so bad. We tried to make the boy trust us only to send him back to New York. Something about that didn't seem right to me. But that has been the way things had been decided to go and we weren't supposed to change anything. It was an awful feeling thinking about that the boy was going to be jerked around like a toy. Okay, he had been already sixteen. He nearly had been adult then, but he still was a child – a hurt one. It spoke against my whole attitude that they treated him like that. Nobody seemed to notice what they were - we were actually doing to him. I never had really thought about it until then, but it had felt bad. I had suppressed this thought and this feeling for a while. Until…this happened. If I had given more space to them, maybe we could have prevented all this. Maybe we could have protected him. But it hadn't been in our power.

"Oh sweetie, I'll promise you I'll try to find a solution for that, when it's time for it." It only were empty words, as I had known that there was no solution. My son was right and I only wanted to sooth him – nothing more.

"Yeah, whatever. I only hope Ryan will still write to me after Dad's show. Today he really started to tell me something about him and his life in New York. But I'm sure Dad has damaged all this." What my husband had done hadn't been right. I believe him that he only was concerned. Nevertheless our son didn't understand that and I know how carefully we have to act around the boy. The slightest mistake could force him back into his shell, so my son had all rights to fear Ryan might withdraw from us.

"I'm sure Ryan can differ between what you do and what you Dad does." I tried to calm him down again.

"Do you think so?" He asked. I had no idea. Ryan had been some kind of mystery to us. We had no idea how to act around him, what made him staying mute and avoiding every physical and eye contact. We just hadn't known what lay behind all this.

"Yes I do. I think Ryan is quite a smart boy. He knows that it hadn't been your fault."

"Hope so." My son had gone up from bed.

"Where do you wanna go?" I had asked him.

"To Ryan, seeing whether you're right."

"Could you wait a minute? I want to have a look at his face and the wounds on his back. I don't think he would like you to witness that."

"Then good luck." He answered and then I had gone to the pool house. It was the first time it had been me looking onto his wounds, instead of a nurse. He barely had allowed the nurse to touch him. I had no clue of how to make him trust me enough. I knocked on the door and went in. He had been sitting again in one of the basked chairs in his usual as small as possible position.

"Hey, I just come to have a look onto your back and your face." I told him. He hadn't looked up, but buried his face even more between his knees. He was back into the state in which he had come to us. I felt so awfully bad.

"Ryan please, I thought we had a deal about that. You have to let us check you back, otherwise you have to go back to hospital and I don't think that you want that." I told him. He hadn't reacted. I had gone to him put a hand onto his shoulder. I shouldn't have done that. His body tensed up and he jumped up from the chair and went far away from me into a corner.

"Ryan, please. I can't treat your wounds if you don't allow me touching you. Listen, I know what Sandy had said hadn't sounded polite. But I promise you he isn't angry or wanted to frighten you. He only is concerned. He wants to help you and he's afraid he might not be able if something happens to you." I tried to sooth, but he didn't seem to be convinced.

"Ryan nobody here wants to harm you. We only want to make you feel better and help you. But you have to believe us and trust us – at least a little." I gave up, when I didn't get a reaction. But I also hadn't wanted to force him back to hospital. The days there must have been torture for him. Too many strangers, too much poking and prodding. But what else was I supposed to do? I hadn't wanted him to suffer from another sepsis only because we didn't treat his wounds.

"Okay, you leave me no other choice then. We have to go back to the hospital and I'm sure the doctor there wants an explanation, why you don't let us help you. I'm quite sure that you this time can't come around a conversation with a psychologist." I told him. It has had an effect. He had pulled of his t-shirt and then turned his back to me. It still had looked horrible.

"Good boy, just could you come and sit down on the bed?" I asked him. He slowly came towards me and sat down on the bed.

"That's good. I'll try to be as careful as possible." I said and went into the bathroom to get the salve for his wounds. He had been shaking violently again. If it had been because he was cold or he was afraid I wasn't able to tell. I went to him and carefully pulled the bandages off. I had trouble to fight the nausea coming up to me. I never had been faced to such wounds before. But I had to treat them. One bandaged after another had been gone and then I had started to put the new ones on. With every touch the boy had flinched. I didn't blame him for that. It only was making my job a little harder as it already had been.

"You're doing good sweetie." I told him to sooth him a little.

"Okay, we're done. And now let me have a look onto your face." I told him. He only little lifted his head.

"Ryan, you need to lift your head a little more. I can't see anything." I felt the urge to take his face into my hands, but I resisted it.

"I won't freak out, if you look at me. I never do so. I rather would like to see your beautiful eyes more often and not only accidently." I said. He only had lifted his head barely more. I carefully put my hand under his chin and slowly guided his head up to my face. He squint his eyes. He had been so afraid I might do something to him.

"Don't worry. I only want to have a look onto your eye and cheek. I won't do you anything." I assured him. His eye had been pretty bruised, as well as his cheek, but it had been okay – nothing to worry about.

"Is okay, only bruised. Do you have a headache or do you feel sick?" I asked him, after I allowed him to duck his head again. He shook his head.

"Then I leave you now. Do you mind if Seth comes in? He's afraid you might be mad at him, because of what Sandy had said." I felt relieve when the boy nodded.


	9. Sleep

**A/N.: **Sooooooooory for the delay, but unfortunately I have a very busy life despite my writing ;) Have fun and enjoy (and if someone has any idea about economics and knows what a pareto curve is, I would be grateful is he/she would share her/his knowledge with me ;) )

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_**9. Sleep**_

My fear had become true. Luke Ward's father had pressed charges against Ryan. It was an awful feeling spreading through my body when I read the letter. Assault and battery was the charge.

"What's wrong?" My wife came into the kitchen. Of course she had seen something was wrong. She can read me. Without commend I handed her the letter.

"What does it mean?" She asked.

"That Ward presses charges against Ryan and that the police will arrive every minute to take him with them." I answered. I've been sure that this would harm the boy. Not only regarding to the case, but also to his physical and mental state. I've been afraid of what might happen to the boy. He had been anything else than stable. I've been afraid that the progress he had made would was for nothing – that he would withdraw again. Last night already had been rough, as he really was afraid of me. I luckily was able to sort things out with him, explain him, why I had reacted the way I had. He must have understood as he had relaxed a little more again.

"You have to tell him. He needs to be prepared. I mean…do you think he can deal with it?" My wife asked. The honest answer would have been no. But I couldn't tell her that. She already had been too concerned about this. I hadn't wanted to make her worry more.

"I think he can." I lied. I had to. I had been too afraid to think of what was going to happen to the boy. I've been afraid he might get hurt again. He was too vulnerable.

"I go and talk to him." I said and went to the pool house. The blinds were down, but the boy had been sitting on a chair. I can't tell whether he ever had stopped sitting like that.

"Hey kid." I said when I entered. He flinched at my words, but turned his head into my direction.

"Didn't you sleep?" I was a stupid question. The boy never slept. The boy shook his head.

"Okay Ryan, it's not easy for me, but you need to listen carefully to me now. The father of the boy you had punched yesterday had pressed charges against you. The police will come and take you with them. I know you don't like it and I know that Luke's father is wrong with it, but we have to follow the rules now. This means you go with them and I try everything in my power to get you out of that as soon as possible. Did you understand me?" The boy's face had been devastated. He looked defeated and sad at once. It had been a painful expression.

"Did you understand me?" I asked him again, after I hadn't gotten any answer.

"Ryan, I believe you. I know that you hadn't started the fight and I know that you only tried to defend Seth and I'm sure that I can persuade the judge from that, but you need to stay calm while they take you with them. I don't want you to give them any reason to think that Luke's father might be right with his accusation. Okay?" I looked at him, but there had been no reaction.

"I leave you alone now, but I would appreciate it, if you come and join us in the house. Believe me it's not as bad as it sounds. I can help you and I will. I know you don't trust me, especially after what had happened yesterday. But I need you to trust me in this." I said and then went off. I hadn't wanted to leave the boy alone with that, but it was hard not to. He still kept a huge distance to us. I started to doubt I've been the right one for this job. I have been surprised when the boy had come into the kitchen and sat down on a stool.

"Do you want some coffee?" My wife asked him. He had nodded. She poured a mug and put it in front of him.

"Don't worry Ryan. We'll fix this, okay? You're not alone in this." She said and put an arm around him. His body had tensed up, but he didn't flinch. I hadn't expected that. How had been my wife able to get through to him? I still have no answer to this. It didn't take long and the doorbell rung. Two police officers stood in front of the door.

"Mr. Cohen, we here for Ryan Atwood." One of them said.

"I know." I sighed and let them in. The boy didn't look up, but I could see he had been anxious. I had done everything to make him feel better about this. I would have done everything to make this stop from happening. But I couldn't. They took the boys arms and I had hoped that they would have been gentler to a teenager. The boy had flinched and tried to fight the men.

"Ryan, think about what I said. Just cooperate and everything will be okay again. I'll be there for you and I'll help you. But you need to help me too, okay?" I told him. I only hoped he listened and stuck to our plan.

I only had been short in the office that morning, to get the boys file and what the police and Mr. Ward had in their hands against the boy. I had been pleased to see it hadn't been a lot. Better: nothing. Then I headed to Juvies. I sat in the waiting area for visitors. They brought the boy in. He had been looking miserable. He was trembling, and his body language only screamed: fear. This place must have been worse than hell for the boy. The boy sat down across from me, head turned away, look focused onto the floor.

"Hey kid. A little too crowded in here, what?" I asked him, but didn't get any reaction. I had wanted to take him into my arms and protect him. He never would have allowed me.

"Okay, I have some good news. I can get you out of here. You only need to stay this single night, but then you're a free man. I have enough people that can tell the judge that neither you nor Seth started the fight and you only acted in self-defence and in defence of others. They won't get through with the accusation." I still didn't get a reaction. The boy only sat there.

"Ryan, you need to hang on. I need you to get through to this. I would do more for you if I could, but I can't." The boy only nodded.

"Know what? I see whether I can get the people here to let you stay in your cell through the day. How does it sound?" Again no reaction.

"Is it okay with you?" I asked again. He only nodded. I had to do everything to make him feel any better.

I left him. I had to. I would have stayed with him if I had been allowed to. But I hadn't been. I didn't sleep well that night. I've been awake, hoping the boy was alright. I had been in so much worry. My wife as well. The worse part had been, when we had to tell our son about what had happened. Telling him that his friend, who only had wanted to protect him, was sent into juvies for it had been the worst thing that ever could have happened to me.

"Wow, no I have found a friend and then I sent him straight to jail." He answered.

"Seth this isn't your fault, neither Ryan's. We all know that the Wards aren't nice persons. You couldn't have done anything to prevent this from happening." My wife explained him. He didn't look convinced.

"And how does he deal with it? I mean, we all know that he can't stand crowded places that he has some problems and nobody cares. I mean it's unfair. It's obvious that he has had enough shit in his life. Why else doesn't he talk to anyone of us or just behaves the way he does?" I had to admit then that my son is smarter and much more mature than I had thought. It also made me a little proud. He started to be concerned about others and this was an amazing development. He had left his self – centred attitude.

"I tried to help him. He'll be out by tomorrow. Mr. Ward has nothing in his hands against Ryan."

"And why can't you get him out today?" My son hadn't understood that there had been nothing more for me to do.

"A judge has to decide about this." I tried to explain him.

"For what are lawyers like you good for, if they even can't get an innocent out of jail?" He had screamed. It wasn't okay how he had been talking to us. But I couldn't blame him for that. This exactly is the question I'm asking myself day after day again and again. For what are lawyers like me good for? I couldn't have helped the boy. It had happened without me stepping in. That's why I quit my job. I can't change anything. I only can help my family and that's what I concentrate on. I should have been able to prevent something of that, but I haven't.

No, I didn't sleep that night and I have been up early. I had enough time, but I didn't go surfing. I wasn't in the mood for it. I only had wanted Ryan out of that place. I waited and watched when Ryan was let out. He looked pale and exhausted. I couldn't tell how hard this must have been for him.

"Hey kid, everything alright?" I asked. I had expected a nod and had been astonished to receive a shake.

"Oh…okay, we go home now and there you can relax and have some time for yourself. Alright?" He didn't react. The ride home was quiet. It usually was quiet with him. But it had been more than I was used to. We arrived at home and I let Ryan into the house. My wife and my son had already been waiting for him anxiously.

"Hey Ryan, how are you?" My wife asked him. Of course Ryan didn't answer.

"Hey Ryan, sorry for the mess you know…I just I'm sorry." Ryan only shrugged his shoulders. Probably he hadn't been in any mood to write his answers down.

"I think Ryan just wants to get some rest. I think it had been stressful enough for him." I stepped in. I had wanted to protect him from getting hovered and smothered.

"I can understand that, but do you first allow me to have a look on your back?" She asked him and he only shrugged his shoulders.

I went with Ryan into the pool house. He sat down in one of the chairs. He looked awfully exhausted and he had been shivering. I don't know why I know it had been shivering and not his usual shaking when he was afraid. I just knew it.

"Are you cold?" I asked him and he nodded.

"Know what, you first take a shower, then I have a look onto your back and then you get something to eat. Does it sound okay?" Again he nodded and disappeared in the bathroom. He didn't take long. I think he just didn't want to make me wait for too long. He hadn't put on a t-shirt yet. He slowly…now hesitatingly came towards me.

"Is okay, you can sit down on the bed as the last time." I told him. He slowly stepped to the bed and sat down. He still tried to keep a distance, but treating his wounds meant I had to get closer to him than he used to allow other people. I checked the wounds and had been glad to see that they hadn't been inflamed again through his stay in Juvies. I again acted as carefully as possible. He tried to make it as easy for me as possible. I felt it.

"Okay, we're done. Rest a bit and later I'll come by again and tell you when lunch is ready." I told him and then left. I knew he had needed that space so despairingly. I went into the house again.

"Everything fine?" My husband asked and I only nodded. I don't know why, but I've been concerned about the boy and my urge to make him feel comfortable and better began to increase.

"Yeah…he…looks exhausted." I only answered and took my mug into both hands, feeling the pleasant warmth spreading through my body.

"I don't think that Juvies means weekend. Of course he's exhausted and I'm sure he hates me for that." My son answered.

"Seth, don't say things like that. I know that you're afraid to lose Ryan as friend, but you have to trust him. I don't think he's angry with you." I tried to tell him that his fears are for no reason.

"That's what you think ." He had answered and then run into his room. I followed him. He had lain on his bed, his face buried in the pillows. I sat down on the bed and rubbed his back.

"Seth, what's your problem?" I asked him. I already had been in the know about it, but I had wanted him to talk about it.

"I…you know he's my first friend and I really like him and…I have the feeling he likes me too. He's the first one who accepts me and tells me that I'm not alone. I don't want to be alone again. But I will be and that's not fair. He has no friends, I have no friends. When this is over, we're both alone again. He even more than I am, as I still have you two, but you're working so much. Only now where you have a strange kid at home, you're able to come home earlier and forget about your job. I hate it to be alone." He started to sob. He had been crying and only then I realized what the decision moving from Berkeley to Newport had meant for him. He not only had lost his friends, but in somehow his parents too. In this moment I had realized that I spent too much time with me job and my husband either.

"Oh honey. I'm so sorry that we hadn't been around more often. But I promise it'll change. I can work from home too. It'll be no problem."

"Yeah, but it'll be work. Mum I don't want to be between job and job." He answered. Tears were running down his cheeks. He never had cried that much since he had been six and was told that we were moving to Newport. I took him into my arms and stroked through his hair.

"But what shell I do? I need this job and not only because of the money." I started to make him understand my motives.

"I know that…I…just…I…mean when this is over…you know with Ryan and…this thing in New York, can't…can't he just stay with us?" This had been the first time this sentence occurred in my mind and I had been shocked.

"Seth, that's impossible. I like Ryan too, but we can't keep him like a straying puppy. There are laws telling what to do with boys like Ryan. We can't forget about that." I answered. Keeping the boy hadn't been an option.

"But…he has nobody else and…I really think…he…likes it here and…he trusts me and…tells me things and…I just don't want to have to go to New York only when I want to see him." In my heart I understood him so well. But my mind – my head – was telling me that the boy was broke and so full of conflicts that it seemed impossible that we could be able to solve this.

"Seth, listen to me. Ryan has serious problems and you know that. He'll need professional help to solve them and to cope with them. We can't do that." I told him. Not really believing in what I was saying as it had been us getting Ryan to write his answers onto a scratchpad – okay it had been our son. It had been us whom he allowed to come closer, it had been us he started to relax around. I have no idea what was making Ryan relax around us. If it only had been the fact that we took him as he was, without expectations or if it had been another reason, I don't know.

"And why took you him in anyway?" My son had answered unusually smug.

"Because the Nana had asked us and we couldn't have said no. I mean you see how much help Ryan needs. Should we have refused him this?"

"But he still will need the same help, when everything is over." Wow, my son is smart. He knows how to fight.

"That's true." I only answered. There had been nothing else I could have answered him. When my son had calmed down again I left him. My husband had made some lunch for us and I had told Ryan to get him, when it was ready. I entered the pool house. But Ryan hadn't been there. He didn't sit in the basket chair he used to sit in. Panic had run through my spine. I looked around the room. He was where I left him, on the bed. Asleep. The boy had been asleep. I never had seen him asleep and even my husband told me that the boy wasn't sleeping, but he lay on the bed curled together into a tiny ball and slept. He must have been exhausted if he started to sleep voluntarily. I carefully stepped to the bed and carefully tucked him in. I was afraid to wake him up, but it was too cold to sleep without being covered by a blanket. It was the first time I had been able to see his face. Despite the bruises it looked young and innocent. The face didn't make the impression to belong to a drug dealer or the kind of person that liked to beat up people just for fun. But it didn't look peaceful. It looked as if he was doing some heavy thinking while he was asleep. He didn't look relaxed. But he had been asleep. He again had made one step forward, although of the setback he had suffered from before. I carefully stroked his bangs out of his face. He flinched a little at the touch of my hand, but didn't wake up. I silently left the pool house. He could eat later if he was hungry. I only had wanted him to sleep on.


	10. Wrong

_**Wrong**_

**10.**

I hadn't been allowed to go to the pool house. I hadn't known that sleeping can be such a big event. Okay I hadn't known that Ryan wasn't much of a sleeper then. But I did what my parents said. I had been a little afraid to piss Ryan off. I already had brought him to jail. He didn't need more. I just waited. My parents had been out to their jobs. I again had been alone. Well not really alone, Ryan had been there. He just hadn't been in the house. I just sat in front of the TV and plaid some videogames. The door to the patio opened and Ryan stepped finally in. The end of a deadly boring day.

"Hey dude." I said when he came in. He nodded telling me he had heard me.

"Do want some coffee and something to eat?" He had nodded and we went into the kitchen.

"I just wanted to tell you I'm really sorry for the mess you ended up in." I tried to apologize again.

_Not your fault_

"That's what you say. But I feel responsible for that. I mean if it hadn't been me, all this wouldn't have happened." I felt so guilty and yes I've been afraid Ryan might hate me for what had happened. He had all reason to do so.

_The guy is an asshole. When it's someone's fault then his parents'_

"Okay, for him being an asshole you might be right. But I should have reacted in a different way."

_Shut up_

"Okay, I stop talking about that. But I'll never will forget you that. I owe you something." I told him and with that the story just had been finished. Ryan never talked about it again. I don't know whether he forgot about it of if he hadn't cared.

"So what do you wanna do today?" I asked him. I had wanted to make up to him for what he had done. I had to otherwise I never would have been able to lose the feeling of guiltiness.

_No sailing please_

"Alright, then just have breakfast and then we'll see what we can do." I said and then we ended up in front of the TV playing play station. Yes it's much more fun playing together with someone than playing alone. It felt like we spend the whole day playing. Unfortunately we couldn't use the pool as Ryan's back still hadn't been healed enough for that.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" I asked him. I had expected a nod, but it had been something in between nodding and shaking.

"Could get a little more precise?" I asked.

_Used to have one. But last year or so I hadn't enough time for her_

"How do I have to understand this? You had a girlfriend, but had no time for her? Dude, you're really screwed. If I had a girlfriend I would spend every free second with her and more." I answered. I didn't know then what the reason was for why he hadn't enough time for her.

_Had no choice_

"Man, you're a little too cryptically for my taste. I mean despite school there is nothing to spend our time with. We have to use the chance we have as teenagers." I only said.

_Family problems_

I know after reading this I should have become more alerted. But I had no clue of what he considered as family problems. For me it's something: your grandma dies or your parents get divorced. That had been the reason why I hadn't asked on. If something of that had been the reason for the problems it would have been a little clumsy if I had asked him after that. Things like that should be told voluntarily – not because someone drags you to answer some stupid question.

"Know what? What about going to the movies? The I MAX is great and I swear we won't meet Luke there. The movies they show are too intelligent as if he could understand them." I told him. I wanted to show Newport and what I used to do in my spare time. I wanted to make him relax - not thinking about was coming up to him. I mean the thought ending up either in Juvies or in a foster home is not really comforting. I wanted to make him feel free at least for the few days he stayed with us. It had been hard for him, as the I MAX is usually very crowded. But he seemed to have understood that most of the people just ignore you and don't hurt you or something. If I had known what had been making him so frightened about crowds, I had been able to help him better. Okay, people say I already have helped him a lot. But I don't think so. If I had, why had this happened? If I had helped him, this wouldn't have happened. I know that. In somehow it had been my fault too. I should have realized that something was wrong – that he didn't feel comfortable. But I was too much concerned about myself to realize that. I only was concerned to lose a friend and to be alone again. I hadn't even wasted a thought what must have been gone on in his head after the whole procedure.

We watched a bloody movie about sharks. I can't understand how Ryan had been able to watch the whole movie motionless. He hadn't been the slightest way of frightened. Honestly? For me it had been too much and I had been thinking about how to sleep after this movie.

We went home and my parents had been already back. I had asked myself since when they were home earlier than seven but they were. It also hadn't looked as if something was wrong. They just had been home. Maybe my Mum had listened to what I said and now tried to improve. For me it could be more than only okay.

"Hey boys, hungry?" My Dad asked when we entered the kitchen.

"Oh yes." I answered. Ryan made his way back to the pool house. I know that this day had been a rough fight for him, but he was at our house. There it was safe and he should know that – I guess he knew that. That's why I sometimes didn't understand why he behaved the way he did.

"Hey aren't you hungry?" I asked him. We had spent the whole day busy. He couldn't tell me that he wasn't hungry, but he shook his head.

"Oh no, this is not happening here. You sit down and eat with us." My Mum replied stern. Ryan came back again. He seemed to be afraid of my parents or something. They really can be dominant if they want to, but they don't intend to hurt anyone. You have to get used to it and just overhear them. We all sat down and ate dinner.

"So where have you two been?" My Dad asked.

"In the I MAX." I answered. My father had looked astonished, when I told him.

"And what movie did you watch?" He asked on. That's what I consider as parental control. Awful, as if a movie could hurt you. Okay a few hours of sleep had been missing the next morning, but hell this is nothing.

"Something about sharks. A lot of blood." I answered. I felt my Mum's glances. She didn't like it when I go out and watch such movies. But I have to make my own experiences and now I know I'll never watch a shark movie again. Despite these movies have really an educational aspect – and that's in the summer vacations.

"Well okay, I hope you liked it." My Dad said and then went back to his plate. The rest of the dinner went as usual. My Dad had been talking about his job or I had told something about the movie. In somehow I had the feeling that my parents didn't really like that. After we've been finished my Mum and Ryan cleaned the table and then Ryan disappeared in the pool house.

After a while he came back. I didn't know that we had such an influence on him.

* * *

After dinner Ryan had gone into the pool house but came back later. It had been unusual as he used to disappear and not come back until the next morning. He had something in his hands. It looked like books. I've looked up to him. I didn't know what he had planned. He just came to me and handed me those books. It was three of them.

"What's that?" I asked him.

_What you want from me_

I didn't understand what he was saying. I didn't tell him what I …yes, I told him that I had wanted a testimony against his parents – or those he had been forced to live with.

"I don't understand." I said.

_Just read and then see what you need_

"Read? What? Ryan you need to tell me what that is." I begged him for an answer.

_I can't tell you. Just read. I can't_

And with these words he disappeared again. My wife and my son had been staring at me. Nobody of us has had a clue of what had been happened a few seconds ago. Nobody of us understood what the boy had wanted to tell me. Then I just opened one of the books. It had been some kind of diary. I started reading. After I have read the first lines I closed the book again. The boy was right. It had been what I wanted. It had been a testimony – a testimony about all the years he was forced to live with those people.

"Sandy, what's wrong?" My wife asked me. In this second it occurred to me that the boy must have trusted me a lot when he gave these books to me; allowed me to have a look into his life, into what had shaped him, into what had made him react and behave the way he did. It had been his whole privacy. His whole privacy is written down in these three books and he just handed them to me. But who had I been for him? I just had been someone. Why did he give these books to me? I asked this question, because I hadn't wanted to read it. I hadn't wanted to see what he already went through. But I promised my Mum I would help this boy, thus I just did.

"It's…his life." I only answered and then went into my study. I didn't want my wife or my son seeing any of this. Some of the sheets are bloody. On other ones I fund the traces of tears. These books contain all kinds of abuse one could imagine – physically and psychologically. It had been the worse I've ever read. But I had to. This was the only prove and I had to show the judge that the boy hadn't been guilty – that he has had no other choice. The books started when he was about six or seven. There isn't an entry for every day. But there are enough entries to tell me that the boy had been suffering through a long period of time and nobody had come to help him. Nobody had been there to protect him. He had to protect himself. That was the reason why he didn't speak or looked at you or let you touch him. This behaviour was his only protection.

"Sandy, what's wrong?" My wife stood in the door frame and watched me. Of course she knew that there was something wrong.

"I hate my job." I told her. Reading these books felt wrong. That the boy trusted me had been wrong. I was nothing but a stranger. He shouldn't trust me. What would come next? I would get him out of this mess that had been for sure, but then? He was sent into a foster home. A lot of other kids, nobody who cared whether he was broke. There would be nobody who tried to fix him. There would be nobody who told him things were going to be okay again, because they won't. Sometimes it's questionable whether a foster home was better than living with the parents.

"Why?" She asked and then came to me, massaging my neck. She uses to do so when she recognized I was overtaxed with something.

"This…I can't do this." I answered her.

"You can't do what?" She asked on. She would ask so on until I gave her the answer she wanted from me.

"I…the boy trusts me and what am I doing? I misuse this trust." I answered her.

"No, you don't. You help him to stay out of Juvies. That's your job." She told me. Now she stood in front of me, looking into my eyes.

"Yeah, instead I'll send him into a foster home, where nobody cares about how vulnerable and hurt he is."

"You think it's wrong, right?" She asked. She had read me. She usually reads me. She knew what I felt.

"In somehow. I mean, I can't abandon him after knowing this and…just I can't." I admitted.

"I know." She only replied. I hadn't known that this was what she had felt too.

* * *

I understood my husband's motives only too good. It was strange to get a broken boy like Ryan to trust you and then send him away as if nothing had happened. It was a lie. There had happened a lot – too much to just forget about it. It had been the feeling of hurting him only more gnawing on my soul. We would abandon him – not knowing whether he would cope, whether he would survive, whether there was someone caring as we did. We would have to live with the feeling of having sent a boy that started to mean something to us to some place where he probably would get lost. It was utterly wrong.

"You know what I mean?" My husband asked.

"The feeling as if we're doing something wrong to him." I said to him. He looked at me astonished. Of course he hadn't counted on this. For him I still had been the ice queen from Newport. Honestly: I've never been. Yes I have my job here and I was tough there, because I had to satisfy my father. But this is all. I'm no whole ice queen, only part time and never around my family.

"I should have said no as my Mum asked." He told me.

"And then he probably would already be in Juvies."

"Yes…but…I mean look even at Seth. I don't know if he can cope with losing his first and real friend. I don't want him to be sad and depressed again." He told me.

"Neither do I. Do you know that he feels also alone, because we're working too much?" I asked him. He had nodded.

"I have thought of something like that as a reason. But even if we start to work less, we never can replace a friend in his age. We always will be the parents. I have the feeling as if he will miss something if he only had us around." He was right. We were hurting two teenagers. One of them had been our own son. The thought had been awful and the feeling of being wrong increased more and more.

"I'm sure we'll find a solution for that. Maybe your Mum can help. Maybe there's a foster home in our closer near. Thus both of the can meet and we can be there for Ryan if he needs us." I suggested. It felt like we had a responsibility towards this boy. Not an annoying one. It just felt as if we had to care – to take care of him. He had grown into our family that fast, without even knowing or wanting it. We only gave him the peace that he needed. We gave him the feeling of being safe and taking that from him again had been a painful thought. My heart clenched every time I thought about this.

"Maybe. And if not, we're failing two teenagers." My husband said. I never should have agreed to this. I should have told him to stay in New York, not to bring the boy here. I should have said no when he had said he had to head for New York. I should have…I don't know. All these thoughts and feelings are just too painful.


	11. Solutions

**A/N.: **To all that like this story or/and my other stories please pay attention to my poll (on my profile). Very Important guys, without your opinion I'm lost and unable to write on. Cheers :)

* * *

_**Solutions**_

After I had read what the boy had given to me I had been sure I won't be able to sleep peace- and restful for only one night. It had been too much. Too much abuse, too often, too many people. But I've done my job and it was time to go back to New York and get this thing fixed. We had planned to make it some kind of family vacation, thus my wife and my son came with us. It again had been hard to get Ryan through the airport.

"Don't worry Ryan. I'm there and we managed it already once. We will manage it again." I assured him. My wife and my son were going ahead and I helped Ryan through this. His whole body had been tensed up again and shaking and no matter how often I told him that nobody would do him any harm.

"Ryan is okay. Just go ahead." I didn't care about the people who had been looking at us, as if we were some kind of dog and owner. I saw the boy had started to sweat awfully and all colour was drained out of his face. His breath was shallow. He has had suffered from a panic attack and I managed to guide him into one of the restrooms, where he again disappeared in one of the cabinets. He always had been so silent. One couldn't hear any noise from him. He was too afraid of other's attention. He had done everything to be invisible.

"Everything alright?" I asked. I wanted to make him feel that he wasn't alone. He had needed this assurance. He had to know that there were people that actually cared – cared about him. I wanted to make it all easier for him, but I only had my words – nothing else. I heard the flush. The cabinet was unlocked and he stepped out. He looked worn out. He went to the basin and washed his hands and his face and took some deep breaths.

"We can wait until you're ready." I told him, but there had been something telling me that he was fighting his fears. He had wanted to escape from them. He took another deep breath and then went out. I had been at his side, always being prepared to help him if it was necessary.

"You're doing good kid." I told him. He managed it to the plane without any further incidents. I again let him sit at the window, next to him my son. I had figured out that he wasn't afraid of his presence. They even talked and wrote due the flight. It nearly seemed as if he was a normal teenager who just couldn't talk. Anyway, around Seth he used to be …some kind of normal, like teenager are or should be. There had been no fear. When we arrive at the airport on which we had to change planes we all four waited until the whole crowed had left. Then we followed. We had luck that the other airport wasn't that crowded. It had been easier for Ryan to get through that one. The boy was under a lot of stress still. He was pale and shaking, but that had been all – no more throwing up and no more panic attacks. We reached the plane and I let the boys again sit next to each other. I watched them carefully and the thought that this trip was the last remaining time they could spend with each other had been terrible. I had wanted to drive this thought away, but it came back every now and then. I really have had to talk to my Mum, whether she knew whether it was capable to transfer the boy from New York to California. I even had found out about a foster home near to us. So I only needed to convince the social service to let Ryan stay there. I only had hoped. I knew how strict these people were. They rarely gave permission to anything out of the usual procedure. But I had to try, for the boy's sake.

When we arrived in New York, we took a taxi and went to my Mum's apartment. We had decided that it probably was the best for the boy if he stayed with her. He knew the apartment and her and it wasn't as crowded as a Hotel or other places. It was a familiar place for him and this was the more important. My son hadn't said a word, when we drove through the poor streets of the Bronx. He never had seen this place before. It had been a whole new experience for him, but on one that had shaped him in a good manner. I explained him, where I had been at school and showed him the places I used to go in my free time, where I used to spend time with friends and how I used to do it. He had been eager to learn about it. I never had thought that my son has had such an interest into my past and where I came from. My wife already knew all these stories. She only never had seen all these places before. I guess she never had been in the Bronx or similar places before as well. I had brought my family to my former home, an experience I'll never forget. We reached the building in which my Mum owned her apartment. We got off the taxi. My son hesitated. I've seen the concern and some kind of fear on his face. Of course this place didn't look as nice and safe as Newport Beach. He wasn't used to move around in such areas. But he would deal with it and I'm sure now he'll be able to move around in every area. He had learned a lot in our time in New York. It had been something special, not only because it had been our first family vacation for ages, but also, because it was a new world we entered. For Ryan it was granted to move around here. He had grown up here. For him it was more difficult to move around Newport. He had taught me that you even can feel uncomfortable and out of place in some safe and rich area – an area that doesn't seem to harm you. We went upstairs. My son was surprised that there was no elevator. Fact, in Newport there was everywhere an elevator. People even used to have one in their own houses. Crazy in my opinion. If you can't use the stairs you build a one floor building, not one with three to four. I rung the doorbell. Again it were footsteps making me aware my Mum was on her way to the door. She opened it carefully, but when she saw, who was behind it, opened it widely.

"Sanford, Sethle, Kirsten. What are you doing here? Nice to see you all." And with these words she hugged every one of us, even my wife and that never had happened before. Ryan had hide behind all of us. He still hadn't been too comfortable around a lot of people in small space.

"Hey Ryan, how are you?" She asked when she saw him. He only shrugged his shoulders.

"Oh, how impolite, come in. There's enough space for all of us." And then she let us in. She never had been that friendly to us. She used to be more shortspoken.

"Have a seat please. Would you like some ice tea?" She asked all of and without waiting for an answer poured several glasses of ice tea.

"So what lead you to me?" She asked.

"His hearing will be tomorrow." I answered and she nodded.

"Ryan, your room is still yours. You can go there and don't know what you and Seth used to do." She said and with these words the boys disappeared and I knew now it was time for the serious topics.

"And can you help him out?" She asked me.

"You want to know whether I managed to get him talk to me." She nodded.

"Well, he didn't talk, but he gave me some kind of diaries and those contain enough information to convince even the toughest judge of the boy's innocence." I told her.

"That's great. I knew you and Kirsten could help him." She said. My wife had looked at me, quite astonished about this statement. My Mum used to see my wife as woman without any skills.

"Well, it had been hard, but we managed in somehow." She said. She looked at me and I saw what she had wanted to know. There had been this one little important issue that needed to be solved.

"Mum, when this is over, Ryan probably will get send into a foster home, right?" I asked her.

"Yes, why?"

"Well, we're wondering whether it's possible to find – I mean we already know where a foster home is – we just wonder whether it's possible to get him to a foster home in California. There's one close to our home. I mean he and Seth became very good friends and thus we could have a look at him, see whether everything is alright with him and so on." I started.

"Well, technically it's possible. But well, it's not the usual procedure. You know social services are overtaxed and sending a kid to another state is only more work." She said. I was disappointed about this statement. She had been so eager to make me help this boy. She didn't see that the boy needed more help than just this one.

"But Mum, if we leave him here, he'll probably feel betrayed. I mean he and Seth a really good friends and both won't be happy to be separated and…the boy started to trust us. He had started to communicate with us, allowed us to talk to him, touch him and show him that not everybody wants to harm him. If we leave, what will this cause inside of him? There's obviously something connecting us with him. We can't just jerk him around, make him trust us and then forget about him. This only can lead to more problems than he already has." I tried to explain to her my motives. No I wanted to convince her to pick this fight.

"I know what you mean and I know that sending him into a foster home far away from his friend and people he obviously trusts is not good. But my hands are tied. I can try, but I won't reach anything."

"Sophie, you can't tell me that you thought that after you forced us to take this boy in and make him feel comfortable around us we would just say okay now leave. I mean what do think we are?" My wife stepped in. She had been upset about my Mum's behaviour and I could understand her well. This was not the right behaviour in such a situation.

"Kirsten I don't expect you to understand this, I don't do either. I would do everything to fulfil your wish, but that's not possible." She only answered and thus this discussion had been over. I felt utterly bad about this. I just hadn't been able to get used to this thought or to understand this. I couldn't have left the boy. Not after his attempts to trust us, not after what we lived through with him.

"Okay, nevertheless I need to talk to Ryan." I said and then went into the living room where my son and Ryan had sat and read Jules Verne. The boy had listened to me on the first day I met him. Well, this here was his world and now he introduced Seth into it, as Seth introduced him into his world.

"Hey boys." I said when I went in. It had been important to let Ryan know you were in the same room with him. Otherwise he used to freak out a little.

"Ryan can I talk to you a second?" I asked him. He got up and come to my direction. He left a gap between us and didn't look at me, but nevertheless I could see that his whole attention had been on me.

"I wanted to ask, whether it is okay, if I copy some passages out of the books you gave me and hand them to the state attorney and the judge. You don't have to worry, they won't talk about it. It only could help them to understand and to realize that it hadn't been your fault." I had to hand those extracts to those two. They needed to see these documents with their eyes to be convinced that what was written in there was the bloody truth.

_Is it necessary?_

"If I want to have a good chance to keep you out if Juvies yes. But I promise you that they have to stay silent about what they read. They aren't allowed to talk about it."

_Will they ask me questions about it?_

"I don't know. Maybe, but I can ask them not to."

_No, sorry_

"Ryan, kid, I know that this is not easy for you, neither is it for me. But if you want to have a good chance, this is the only way you can get it. I promise you to help you. I'll be there and when it's getting too uncomfortable for you I'll intervene. You only have to trust me."

_Told you I can't_

I have seen the fear that had been leading him. I should have respected it. I shouldn't have pushed him. Maybe it hadn't happened then. But I knew Ryan wouldn't make it, if he was send to Juvies.

"Don't get me wrong, but you have to face this sometime anyway if you don't want it to destroy you."

_Not ready yet_

"Ryan, my Dad only wants to help you and he can, but you have to give him the possibility to do so. He can't do this all on his own, as you couldn't do this on your own. You have to work together. That's the how things work."

_I trusted you already too much anyway_

It had been a defeating statement. He had been so afraid to trust someone.

"No Ryan, you didn't." I told him, but wasn't been sure, whether he believed me or not.

The night in our hotel room had been quiet. I saw that something had been bothering my husband and I had known what it had been.

"What's up your mind?" I asked him.

"I don't understand why my Mum is reluctant to help us to get the boy in our close near." He answered. I didn't understand it either. It had been completely against my feelings. Of course I only thought we would let him stay at our home only a few days and then bring him back to New York. But now I had wanted him to stay close to us. I wasn't been able to leave him as if nothing had happened. There had been too much connecting us to him. Not only all the events that had happened, but also something I still can't explain. It had felt as if the boy had ended up on the wrong door stop sixteen years ago. It sounds weird I know. But that had been the feeling I had carried around for the whole time. The boy belonged to us.

"I can't either." I had answered and lay down next to my husband.

"Isn't there anything we can do to make it possible?" I asked on.

"I don't know. I'll talk to the social service. Maybe they understand us." He answered. It had been the worse feeling of helplessness I ever had expired.

"I feel as if I betray him. I mean we've told him so often that he can trust us and that he has to. Then he finally does and then we just bring him to some place where nobody cares. Who is no supposed to talk to him, make him feel comfortable? Who's taking care of his wellbeing?" I asked my husband. I had been so afraid the boy might get lost somewhere. It had been obvious that the boy needed someone who was able to handle and protect him. Protection was the most important thing. Who was supposed to give him the feeling of security? Just some strangers who cared for several hundred other children? How was this supposed to work out? The boy needed a family. He had none. His mother had been involved in some drug thing, a father didn't seem do exist and what now? The boy was lost and alone. It had been painful to think of this good soul that was behind this shell and now was damned to get lost. It felt so unfair. It had been only a kid, a kid that had nobody. And my husband's mother? What did she mean with her hands are tied? She was working at the social service. She had been able to get the boy out of Juvies and out of a foster home to let him stay with her. Why wasn't she able to help us in this? Was this that much more difficult. It seemed so, otherwise I wasn't able to explain to myself why there was no other solution, a solution suiting every one of us.

"I don't know that. I only know that I first of all have to get him out of the mess he's in then we'll see how to keep an eye on him."

"Do you know what I'm thinking about right now?" I asked my husband. I needed to give my thoughts the space they needed, or better I needed to give my emotions the space they needed.

"What?"

"I…do you think…or feel that there is something special about this boy? I mean some kind of connection to us?" I've been very carefully with asking this.

"I don't know…but I had the feeling when I met him the first time. It was as if…he belonged to me or something. Why?" He asked.

"Isn't it curious? I mean, he and Seth came a long from the very second they met. You felt a connection to him the first time you met him and I…have the feeling as if he is some kind of missing piece. I…don't know what this is. I know this is crazy and the time we had together with him had been too short and yes, he has several problems…but I can't imagine living without him though." Now it was out. Now my husband knew how I felt and I only hoped he wouldn't blow his top because of that.

"Well, if you feel that strong for him, there are solutions…"

"But I want to know what you think and feel." I wanted my husband's opinion. He uses too be the rationalist and this is what I needed. I needed something rational to get my emotions into order.

"I…I think there's something special about the boy - special enough that I can sympathize with you." He said. I felt relieve spread through my body.

"Okay, then let's talk about the solutions." Still today I think I never had been so sure about something. It had been the first time I didn't ask my father whether it was okay if I decided like that. It had been the first time that doubts didn't prohibit me to make this decision. It had been the first time I had been able to follow my heart and only my heart and it felt good. It felt as if something that had been missing for long, eventually found its way back to make everything complete again. The feeling of being complete had been that strong that I hadn't been able to make another decision. Even the following events hadn't been able to raise any doubts inside of me. I know it sounds crazy. I should have had doubts especially after…. But I hadn't. It only had made clear to me how much the boy had needed us and how right the decision had been. Of course I wish it never had happened. Of course I feel as if I have failed in somehow, as if I should have been there to protect him from that. But I hadn't been.


	12. Too late

**A/N.:** Okay guys, sorry to say, but if you don't support my decision about what to write next, I really have to stop writing and this chapter will be the last one *evil*. It's really not my style imposing ultimata, but I can't write 2 stories in the same time, and I need to know one which one to concentrate. So very big, bigger than universe, please help me *beg* *beg* *beg*

Nevertheless thanks for reading and enjoy

cheers

* * *

**_Too late_**

Next day – court day. I never had been such nervous as today. It had felt as if this time it was about all or nothing. It had been about all or nothing. There were so many things up on my mind. Could I convince the judge? Would they ask the boy questions about his diaries? Would he cope with it?

"Are you ready for today?" My wife asked when she watched me dressing up.

"I don't think so." I answered. I had been so nervous. I wanted to help the boy. I wanted to make him trust me. I had been so afraid to fail. If I did I would have betrayed the boy. He had confided in me. But I also knew against what forces I was fighting.

"But I know you are." My wife replied.

"Let's hope so." I answered and kissed her goodbye.

"Know what, I come with you." She said. I had been surprised. She usually never had come to one of those court days. Why should she? This was my job and this had nothing to do with her. I realized again. This had something to do with her, with me, with us. We all had been involved in this in somehow.

"And what about Seth?" I asked. I hadn't wanted to leave my son alone in a city like New York. Seth grew up in a safe and protected surrounding. He never had been faced with a city like New York. I was afraid it might happen something to him.

"He should come too. I mean this is a good experience for him. He never had been at court before." She had been right. It was a good measure to show him, what will happen if he doesn't stick to rules. Eventually we all went to pick up the boy.

"Hey Sanford." My Mum greeted me, when she opened the door.

"Kirsten and Seth, you to coming too?" She asked astonished. She didn't believe us when we told her that the boy had started to mean something to us. I don't know what she had been thinking when she sent the boy to us. Maybe she really thought we can be cold enough to just forget about him, when our job was done.

"The boy is ready in a few minutes." She said and led us into the kitchen.

"And what do you think?" She asked me curious.

"That I betray him." I answered. I still had been mad at her, because she didn't want to help us. I know it hadn't been her fault. She only had been honest, but nevertheless she had given up without picking up the real fight.

"That we betray him." My wife corrected me.

"Don't start with this again. I told you that my hands are tied. What shell I do, kidnap him?" She was aggressive towards us. That's what she does when she wants to defend her actions although she knows they're wrong.

"Maybe. You already broke a lot of rules. Why not this one too?" My wife asked back. I noticed how much the boy already meant to her. We had talked about several solutions how to get him back with us again. It wasn't the fact that we hadn't wanted to agree to the most obvious one. We were concerned whether the boy was ready for this and whether this was a good idea. We knew the boy needed a lot of help, even help we couldn't offer him – well not in person, but we could find someone who could give him this help. Maybe we just had to try and error.

"I won't discuss this any longer. It's time for us to go to court. I go and get Ryan." She said and then got up. The discussion was over, because she knew she wasn't able to make us giving up on the boy. We had hit a never, but what this nerve meant had been unknown by us. It didn't take long and my Mum came back with Ryan in tow. He looked even more withdrawn than usually.

"Nervous?" I asked him and he nodded.

"Don't worry. We are all there for you and we get through this." I ensured him and then we went off. It had been a silent drive to the court. The tension between my wife and my Mum had increased. I was worried it might come to a huge explosion we all might regret afterwards. I know my wife's temper and my Mum's as well. This was an explosive mixture. But at least I knew my wife good enough to know she wouldn't make a scene in front of so many people. She uses to maintain her composure.

We reached the court building. Ryan was frightened to his tracks and I knew why. It hadn't been the court appointment. It was the fact that maybe things were lay open, he had hide so well for so long.

"Don't worry kid." I said again. I could have said it every second to him only to make him believe me at the end. While the others already took a seat in the visitor rows the boy and I had to wait. He was shaking awfully again.

"Too many people around here, hu?" I asked him. I had to comfort and sooth him. Having to go to court already was stressful, but having to deal with crowded places, when you had been afraid of them was too much. I wished I could have saved the boy this experience, but I couldn't. I wished I could have promised him that nobody would lay open what was written in his diaries, but I couldn't. I only could hope by myself that this won't happen.

"I promise I help you out of this and then you can start from new and try to forget what had happened." I soothed him, but it hadn't had any effect. I hoped that the presence of my wife and my son – especially my son - could make him feel better. But it didn't help. When we entered the court room and Ryan saw all those people around – people he didn't knew – he started shaking even more violent and he was pale like a sheet. I was afraid he might suffer from a nervous breakdown every passing second.

"Ryan, don't worry. Nobody here will harm you." I assured him.

_Will they know about...?_

This was his biggest fear and I hadn't seen it. If I had I probably would have proceeded in a different way, but I already was deep in my thoughts and tried to think how to follow my strategy that I didn't notice.

"I don't think so. Ryan, you only need to calm down a bit. Everything will be okay." Nothing would be okay. I hadn't known then. I still feel guilty for how things turned out on that day. The judge entered the court room and the hearing started.

"Your honour, before we start the hearing I would like to give you something to read, what might show the whole case in another light." I said before the proceeding started. I had wanted to get over with this as soon as possible.

"Sustained." The judge answered. The first step was managed by then. I went to the desk and handed him the extracts of the boy's diaries, then I gave one to the attorney. The judge had read carefully and then had looked at me.

"What is that and what is it supposed to mean?" He asked me then.

"It's an extract of Ryan Atwood's diaries and with that I want to show that he didn't acted with intend, when he sold the drugs." Now I was in my element and I had forgotten about the boy. For me it only counted how to win this case. I had forgotten about the person behind it and his fears.

"Do you have the origins?" The attorney started asking.

"Yes." I said and handed him the books. This had been my first mistake and if I had paid attention to my wife's face mirrored in the window, I would have noticed it.

"Mr. Atwood, Ryan is this your handwriting?" The judge asked the boy. The boy only nodded, without looking at the judge.

"Can you look at me and tell me that this is your handwriting?" The judge insisted. I should have stepped in then, telling him that the boy was afraid of every eye contact. I didn't. I have left the boy alone in this. I even didn't hinder the attorney from thumbing through the whole diary, one after another. I hadn't noticed that panic had been written all over the boy's face. I only watched him, how he slowly had lifted his head, still trying to avoid eye contact and nodded again.

"Okay, if you say so. Your Mum and her boyfriend used to lock you up in the basement for days even weeks, is that right?" The judge started the interrogation. I should have known that this had gone too far.

"Can you explain me why?" The judge asked. I should have told him that Ryan can't talk – isn't ready yet.

"Okay, you don't like to talk about that. Let's try it another way." The judge concluded when he didn't received an answer from a deadly frightened boy.

"Is it true that your Mum locked you up when she had been addicted to drugs and when her withdraw had been successful let you out again?" The judge asked. This hadn't been my third mistake. I should have told the judge not to ask these questions in front of an audience. I didn't. I knew that the boy was too afraid of anyone to know this. He had trusted me and that I won't let anyone know and I had let him down. I had failed him and I didn't recognize it. For me it only had been the case, not the boy anymore.

"Is it true that your mother's boyfriends used to abuse you?" The judge went on.

"Is it true that when you didn't sell the drugs your mother's boyfriends hit you until you bled or have been unconscious? Is it true that your mother used to let men into the basement that used to do things they shouldn't do?" The judge sounded upset, because he didn't get answers – answers he demanded and he was used to get. I hadn't seen that the boy's breath only went shallow. I hadn't seen that he was close to break down that this all had been too much for him. I hadn't seen that he had been shaking and that his eyes filled with tears. I hadn't noticed that I wasn't keeping my promise.

"Stop!" My Mum finally jumped up from her seat. She had noticed what I should have noticed.

"Doesn't anyone of you see what you're doing to him?" She screamed and come to the front, wrapping her arms protective around the boy.

"Ryan, come here. We go." She said. I hadn't understood her, because if I had, I would have supported her.

"Miss you can't take the boy with you. He has to attend this hearing." The judge said.

"Oh yes? Did you have a look at him?" She snapped at him. Only now I realized that there were silent tears streaming down the boy's cheek.

"Oh…Kid…" I wasn't able to say anything.

"C'mon Ryan, let's go." My Mum helped Ryan up and guided him out of the room, not letting off of him. His knees were shaking.

* * *

When I saw my husband's Mum coming back I saw what had been upsetting her so bad. The boy looked miserable. She left the room with him and I followed her with my son in tow. She had sat down on a bench in the hallway. The boy was crying awfully - without a noise but a lot of tears. I didn't understand what had gotten into my husband that he didn't notice this. I sat down next to him and took him into my arms. I had to. My instincts told me so.

"Is okay honey." I told him. I didn't pay attention to his body that tensed up. I only had wanted to hold him and protect him.

"Sandy didn't mean to. He didn't notice what he was doing. He was a little too enthusiastic to help you in this. I promise he didn't want to harm you." I told him and stroke through his hair.

"Is okay sweetie, we go home now. Everything will be alright soon." I assured him. It had taken us a few more minutes then we got up and left. The boy didn't respond to anything. It was as if he only worked like a machine. Nothing more. I guess in this point of time something had gotten broke inside of him. I mean this is the only explanation I have for what had happened later. The whole way home the tears didn't seem to stop streaming down his cheeks. I had tried to sooth him, my husband's Mum tried, even my own son – who had no experience with that – tried. But nothing happened. He just cried. The most awful thing was that he didn't make any noise. There had been not the slightest sob coming from him. It only had been tears. His body had been tenses up and he had been trembling because of tension. I wasn't able or allowed to touch him again. He flinched violently and if I had come too close he panicked. It had been awful and I know I should have noticed something was utterly wrong. But I have to say that I never have thought of this as some possibility to happen. It just is nothing I think of – nothing I have thought of. Now I do and now I would say I would have a closer look on him, watch him more carefully, but it's too late now. Now it had happened and I can't make it undone. I feel bad. Very bad. He had been withdrawn. When we reached my husband's Mum's apartment the boy locked himself up in the bathroom. We heard that he had turned on the shower. Well I read that people – children – with all those kinds of experience have the feeling of being dirty and thus feel more often the urge to clean up. I hadn't thought about anything else. I hadn't known that he was that labile. I mean if I had I would have watched him more carefully. I wouldn't have left him alone for one second.

It was strange. I never had thought Ryan was one of the guys that cry. But he did. I hadn't understood why. I hadn't understood that the harmless questions of the judge just had brought back some bad memories. I hadn't known that his memories were that bad. Okay, I know that being locked up in a basement isn't nice and I did understand what the judge meant when he asked the boy about what men did to him they weren't supposed to do. I just couldn't imagine the effect something like that can have. I hadn't understood the meaning of traumatic. I just hadn't been in his head. If I had known what was going on I had told him that it was over and that he was safe, stuff like that. But I hadn't. Damn, I hadn't even understood why he had started to cry.

* * *

When we got to my grandma's apartment Ryan had locked himself up in the bathroom and started the shower. I had no clue of what this was supposed to mean. Maybe I have thought he needed to shower to relax and come down again.

"Ryan, sweetie come out. There's no reason for you to hide." My Mum tried to talk Ryan out of the bathroom when the shower was turned off, but it didn't work.

My Dad joined us later. He has had some good news. The judge and the attorney were convinced that Ryan hadn't had the choice, but selling the drugs regarding to the extracts of his diaries. They said that there was no space left for intention, thus Ryan was a free man. Well this should have been good news to get the boy out of the bathroom.

"Hey Ryan, it's me Sandy." My Dad started to provide him with this super news.

"I know you're mad at me and you have all reason to. I haven't thought about what I had been doing. But the good news is that the judge and the attorney believed me – us. So you're free. No Juvies." My Dad had in the hope to get Ryan out of the bathroom. But nothing had happened.

"Ryan, could you at least give me a sign that I know that you've listened to what I've said?" My father asked, but there hadn't come a sign. He had looked at us with a strange glance in his eyes. I never have seen it before. But yes, the atmosphere had been in somehow strange. There was something wrong and then everything went very fast. My Dad breaking open the door, the screaming and crying.

* * *

My instincts had told me that there was something utterly wrong.

"Ryan?" I had asked again, but I got no sign – pure nothing. Then I only looked at my Mum to know she was concerned too. I only saw one opportunity. I cracked the door open. I'll never forget what I've seen then. It had been horrible. I had been shocked. I had been depressed. I had felt the urge to burst into tears, but the most I felt as if I have to help him. I kneeled down to him, not paying attention that I had been kneeling in a puddle that might ruin my suit. It hadn't been important then. I grabbed all towels I could get. He was looking so pale and fragile. I hadn't known that he was so labile. He hadn't made the impression as if he could…do this.

"Ryan? Kid, stay with me." I said to him, but he had been already unconscious.

"Someone call an ambulance!" I screamed through the whole apartment. Even when he had been unconscious I saw the sadness and pain in his face. I hadn't foreseen what effect it could have, when he was faced with his past. I just hadn't known.

I can't say how long it took the ambulance to arrive. But they arrived eventually. But it had been too late.


	13. The solution

**A/N.: **Okay guys, the carefully readers of you have realized that couldn't have been the end. To all others: I still have to cool my bruises. I know my language skills aren't the best. But I have been looking for a Beta. Either I received no answer to whether they would like to beta my stories, or it was a no. I think you can understand that after quite a while you just lose energy to look for one. But you're always welcome to point out my mistakes and tell me to correct them and I'll try to do so. And if you have a beta for me, it'll be even better.

And just in case you thought it is difficult to find out who's point of view it is: the parting line is there to make you aware of a change in the point of view.

At the end big thanks for your reviews and please next time throw tomatoes no potatoes ;)

* * *

_**The solution**_

He still was unconscious, but I stayed with him. He needed someone around. He looked so pale and fragile. I felt so bad. Why haven't I seen this coming? Why haven't I reacted earlier? I had no answers, but a bad conscience. My son was devastated. Until that point of time, something like that hadn't been occurred as possible to him. We never have been faced with something like that. It had taken hours to make him calm again. My nerves were on the edge, what made the attempt of calming him down only harder. After hours of crying he had eventually fallen asleep. We sent him home to my husband's mother. She had seen it coming. She had known what the court proceeding was going to cause. Just nobody had given space to this idea. I still held his cold hand. He didn't notice and he won't for the next few hours. They kept him sedated. Stupid. As if one can sleep something like that off. I still ask myself why he hasn't said something. Why didn't he come to us? What made him thinking of this as the only solution? I'll never be able to forget what I have seen in the bathroom on the floor. I still can't explain to myself how my husband had been able to stay calm due the whole time. He acted nearly professional, as if he was used to things like that.

"Oh sweetie." It slipped my mouth. I knew he wouldn't hear me. What had been worse of all was the prevailing uncertainty. Nobody told us what was going to happen to the boy after this. It couldn't be something good. When I turned around I was faced with bared windows. The door which led to the room was a heavy one with a little barred window. How was the boy supposed to recover when he felt utterly uncomfortable? He had been locked up like a dangerous animal. I know that you can't take something like that lightly. This had been very serious and still is serious, as it demonstrates us how fragile and sensitive the boy is. But this was clearly the wrong way to deal with the situation. How was the boy supposed to heal when he was feeling intimidated?

After sometime I felt a twitch in my hand. The sedatives started to wear off.

"Hey sweetie, I'm there." I saw him stir. But he didn't get the chance to wake up. Seconds after a nurse entered the room and injected something into the boy's IV and soon he felt back into the unresponsive state he had been in only a few minutes ago. I didn't agree to this kind of treatment. What means didn't? I don't agree with it. But what should I have done? I was nobody for them – or some crazy woman with some kind of weird obsession. It already had been a tough fight to make them allow me to stay with him. On the other hand this kind of treatment might have been good. His nerves for sure were on the edge. Being asleep properly had helped him at least to relax again.

I stayed due the whole night, not shutting one eye. I had to protect him. It has been an inner urge I couldn't resist. I had to protect him from whatever was coming up to him. A knock on the door dragged me out of my thoughts. My husband entered the room – silently not to wake the boy. I doubt an earthquake could have done so, by the amount of drugs the boy had been fed with.

"Can I talk to you?" He asked. He pointed to go out. I only reluctantly left the boy. I had to be with him, when he woke up. He needed someone who soothed him in this terrifying surrounding and it was my job to do so. But I had to leave.

"What's wrong?" I asked him.

"I've been at the social service with my Mum and…well they are not really happy about the latest event." He started to explain me. I hate it when he doesn't tell me straight what is wrong and instead beats around the bush. I know if he does so, it's always bad news.

"And that means?" I dug deeper. I wanted the clear plain information so that I could go back to the boy again. We had to make it fast, because I saw some nurses and a doctor entering the room. I was afraid they might frighten the boy. He hasn't been in any state to handle so many people at once. He was in the need of someone who soothed him and helped him through to this dilemma.

"That they rather want to send him into some institution, where they can obtain him the required professional treatment than get him settled in a family."

"Stop, they want to lock him up in a mental institution?" I was shocked by this answer. The boy didn't need someone who pumped him full with drugs, but someone who cared for him and who was there to take care of his wellbeing.

"Yes." My husband admitted.

"No way. I won't allow that. I mean they can't do that." I told him. At this point I had been reluctant to let the boy go away with some stranger. I had been reluctant to let them take away the boy from me – us. He knew us. We cared. He belonged - belongs to us.

"Give me arguments to convince them and I try from new." My husband said. He was exhausted. But I couldn't respect this now. It was about the boy. My husband has had enough time to relax when this was over, but the boy didn't.

"I dunno…but what about the financial aspect? This usually works. They can save a lot of money if they let us take care of him." I replied. Of course the boy isn't a financial aspect for me. He never was and never will be. But fact is that for the authorities, kids are nothing more than numbers and figures. They don't think of them as human beings that need love and comfort, but as some kind of expensive goods that they waste money on.

"I already tried. Nothing. The problem is that he's still their responsibility. If something goes wrong when they settle him with us, it's their responsibility. They won't risk that." My husband answered.

"I don't care. I won't allow them to lock him up in some institution for lunatics. The boy doesn't belong there and I don't care how you make them understanding that he belongs to us. But you will do so." I determined. My husband looked a little shocked. But hell he is a lawyer. He has to know how to cope with these people. Otherwise I have no idea what he does all the day in his office – pardon what he had done in his office.

"Kirsten, listen it's not that I don't want to but…" Our conversation got disturbed by some loud and strange noise coming out of the boy's room. I stormed in and what I saw wasn't what I wanted to see and hell if they had thought I would let them get through with this they had underestimated my feelings for the boy. The boy was despairingly fighting two male nurses that tried to hold him down on the bed, while a doctor tried to strap him onto the bed. My heart broke at the scene. They were screaming at him that he should stop fighting them, if he wanted the procedure to be over. I could see the violence and force with which they were acting. How where they supposed to do something like this to him. He wasn't violent. He hadn't done anything to anyone and they treated him like some dangerous animal.

"Stop it!" I screamed and went over to the bed. I don't know how, but I managed to push the male nurses out of my way. I sat down on the bed and wrapped my arms protective around the boy, pressing his head against my chest. I held him tight. I didn't want these men laying hand on him only once again. The boy was shaking violently once again.

"Shh, is okay sweetie. I'm there." I started soothing him. I rocked him back and forth to calm him down and to make him aware there was someone protecting him.

"Miss, please. We need to treat him properly." The doctor told me. I didn't pay attention to him. My only concern had been the boy.

"How? By treating him like an animal?" My husband snapped at them.

"Miss, he is endangering himself. We need to keep him sedated so he can recover, but he's too combative. It's only for his own good." The doctor started to explain. I gave…a shit about what he had been telling me. I only knew what I had seen and that has had nothing to do with helping a frightened boy.

"Oh yes? How shell he recover, when you drug him semi conscious and hurt him?"

"Miss…"

"I think you better go. My wife is capable of making your life hell when you don't do what she says." My husband stepped in.

"On your own risk. But I won't take any responsibility if something happens to the boy." The doctor eventually gave up. I still held the boy tight.

"Is okay honey. We're there. We take care of you." I assured him. I stroked through his hair. My husband sat down on the bed and started stroking over the boy's back.

"I told you we're there to help." He started telling the boy. I still pressed his head gently against my chest. My shirt got soaked with tears, when he started to cry silent tears. I felt my heart burst into pieces.

"Everything will be alright, sweetie. I promise." I told him. There had been no further doubt left that I was going to take the boy home with me. He needed us…and I needed him – in somehow. I didn't know the boy. He had been a stranger to me. But what I felt for him only could be love. I felt for him, as I did for Seth and the thought that the boy only landed on the wrong doorstep and finally found his way to where he belonged wasn't been deniable anymore.

"We'll take care of you." My husband said.

* * *

The boy's break down had made me fight tooth and nails for him. I went back to the social service. No, they didn't want us to take care of the boy – too many problems, too risky and all their lame excuses. At the end we found an agreement, but I wasn't sure whether the boy was going to like this agreement and whether this was going to work. In words: it all depended on the boy and his progress. If he hadn't shown any progress in his behaviour, we certainly hadn't been allowed to take him with us. At least we were allowed to choose the help – of course on our bill. But it was worth it. Now we only had to convince Ryan.

"Ryan we need to talk to you." I said when I came back the other day. They still wanted to keep him on observation. My wife had stayed with him. She was watching him like a hawk and didn't allow anyone to get too close to the kid when she couldn't sure that this someone wasn't going to do him any harm.

"Well, I know you won't like what I have to tell you, but this is the only way they allow us to take care of you." I started. The boy frowned, without looking at us.

"You've heard right. We want to take care of your permanently. But first of all we need to know whether you're okay with that. You don't have to decide immediately. I can imagine that this is a tough decision. But the second condition this depends on is that we get you professional help. They only allow us to take care of you when you can show a positive change in your behaviour. You know what I'm talking about, right?" I asked him and he nodded. It was stupid. The boy has made such a progress within the short time he had stayed with us. But this was the only chance we had. The boy nodded again in agreement.

"Well, we found an institution - very close to us - that is specialised in dealing with kids your age. We don't want to get rid of you or do you any harm. But this is the only way we can take you home with us – if you want to." No, the boy didn't look convinced, but we had to tell him the truth. He isn't one of the boys you can trick.

"Honey, it's a really nice institution. You'll have your own room and nobody will treat you like they do here. I promise. It's like a vacation stay. You only need to attend some sessions, talk to someone and let them help you. We've been there and looked at it. It's really nice. Believe us, we wouldn't send you there, if it wasn't a safe place for you." My wife interfered.

_Think about?_

"Of course take your time." I answered. It had been obvious that the boy was completely unsure about this. We left him. He needed the space to think about what was going to happen. I knew that everything was going a little fast and we rushed him. But we had wanted him home with us and there wasn't a lot of time. The people from the social service just were too eager to send the boy into one of their institutions. We came back in the evening. The boy was awake and his expression told us that he had been doing some heavy thinking.

"Hey." My wife said and then rushed to his side. He still was flinching when we touched him, but in spite he allowed us. I was relieved. After what has happened at the hearing it would have been understandable when he had turned mute and passive again. But he hadn't. Then I knew that it wasn't impossible to comply with the social service' requirements. They only didn't know how far the boy already had come.

"And, have you thought about what we had been talking about later?" I asked him and he nodded.

"And did you come to a decision?" My wife asked him. He shrugged his shoulders.

"What do you mean with that?" I asked him.

_Not sure whether you really want to do this_

"Ryan! We hadn't suggested it, if we hadn't meant it. Ryan, all of us – Sandy, Seth and I – feel as if you belong to us. We all want you to stay with us." My wife explained him. Of course he didn't go over the bridge that someone meant it.

_What if it doesn't work?_

"It will work. Don't worry. It might be hard the one or the other day, but it will work. We'll work it out together. Nobody expects it'll work perfect from the very beginning. But it'll work." I told him. It had worked when he came to us as a stranger. There was no reason to believe it wouldn't work when he came to us for good.

_What if you change your mind?_

"We won't. Ryan, this is serious. We want to stay with us. The only one who's not sure about it, is you." My wife told him. He focused his look onto the window.

_Institution?_

"It's a very good one. They work as much as possible without drugs. It's only a lot of talking coming up to you – probably about issues you don't like to talk about. They'll help you to lose your fears. I can imagine you would like to lose your fears, do you?" My wife asked.

_Would make things easier_

"Is it a yes?" I asked him, but didn't receive an answer. "Ryan, you won't be alone in this. We would be there, every time you need us."

* * *

Eventually we brought him to the institution. Ryan has been afraid of what was coming up to him. But this is normal, or? I have bought him some new cloths, he would need them and I wanted to be a mother for him. Mother's buy clothes for their children and as long as I wasn't allowed to keep him under my roof I had to satisfy my mother mode in another way. A woman, the doctor who would treat him, was already waiting for us. We only didn't recognized her as the doctor. Honestly, sorry to say but she doesn't look like a doctor at all.

"Mrs. and Mr. Cohen?" This woman asked. She's pretty young and doesn't look like one should look like as someone working in this profession.

"Yes." My husband answered her. We had thought she was some kind of stuff person.

"Good, I'm Dr. Morgan." I have had no control over my expression, thus she has recognized it as my face dropped.

"Okay, I know too many earrings and too much black. But I'm too young for these white coats. So this is Ryan I guess." She started. She was cheery and in a light mood and this wrapped me in some kind of comforting feeling. This person didn't look like a doctor, but I got the impression as if I could confide in her.

"So, for Ryan it's Sam, alright? Remember that, because I will hate it, if you call me any different." She said. Her behaviour told us that she had a good nose for how to cope with kids in Ryan's age.

"Well bad news at first. Your parents will have to wait five days or a whole week until they can see and talk to you again. I know not really nice policy, but it'll help you." She introduced us into the institutions policy. She was only talking to Ryan. She saw and treated him as the person he already was and that was good.

"But that's long." It slipped my mouth.

"I know and this rule isn't strict. It just depends. But you can call me every day and I tell you about his condition or I call you. And as soon as something is wrong with him, you'll know it in first place. This just should make it easier for him to settle, to come down and relax."

"What about the use of drugs?" My husband asked. We wanted to make sure to the boy that we hadn't been lying to him.

"Good question. As less as possible, but sometimes we administer something for sleeping or some light sedatives. There are just times in which their nerves are on the edge, especially when a lot of issues have been touched and now lie bare on the surface and at the beginning, when it's obvious that they are too frightened of everything."

"But you know…"

* * *

"I know what I have to take care of." I said. I already had been in the know about the boy. I knew that was faced with a lot of fears and to a lot of conflicts. I already knew my strategy. Whether it was going to work was another question. But the information I had told me that I had to do my best. At least it had been after years the first patient who really needed help and not only was too spoilt or too bored, like most of the kids that come to us. Suicide as newest event to get some action in your life. Sad, but true. I have been eager to help this boy. These kids had been the reason why I'm doing this job. Kids like he were the reason why I said to myself that I had to change something. Kids like he only rarely got the help they needed. Usually they got locked up and drugged to the eye balls. I had witnessed enough of that due my time as student. This time I again got the chance to help and I would.


	14. Yes & No

**A/N.: Very BIG THANK YOU TO MY BETA ParisAmy, **who's saving my fictional life ;)

* * *

_**14. Yes & No**_

I took him to his room. He'd been very withdrawn and careful not to look at anyone; not to be close to anyone, not to make any noise: to just be invisible.

"Okay here we are. Pretty fancy what?" I asked him when I opened the door and he'd stepped in.

"Here you even have your own bathroom. So: nothing to be afraid about." I assured him. It had even hurt me to see how afraid the boy was.

"Well, just make yourself a little comfortable, but I need your belts and your shoelaces and I would like to have a look in the bag. Don't worry. I immediately forget what I see. I only need to be sure there's nothing dangerous in it." I recognized the change in his behaviour. He'd become more passive. Of course he was feeling as if he already was being treated like a nut case.

"Everybody has to do so and I'm glad about it. See this?" I showed him the scar on my neck. He looked at it; a quick glance, but saw.

"This was because of a fourteen year old with a blunt knife. Still today I have no idea how he had been able to smuggle it into the hospital I was working in. But this is the reason because I'm very careful. Understandable?" He nodded. I was surprised to receive any kind of response. But I'd seen the people who'd brought him there and I'd had a little talk with them previous. They really cared. They'd managed to get the boy at least a little out of his shell, every once in a while and that was good. Maybe they could make everything a little easier. I hoped so. He handed me his bag and I carefully searched for anything dangerous; I only found one belt and one pair of shoelaces.

"Okay, now I'll give you thirty minutes and then I'll be back to explain you how it works here or better how I think we can make this work." I said and then left him. I knew that the boy needed a lot of privacy and to make him a little more comfortable I had to offer him this privacy. I went into my office and took the books Mr. Cohen had given to me. His diaries. Well, it's rough what the boy went through and it took him sixteen whole years to try to make an end on his own , which was a wonder. I understood what was making him the way he was. All these information made it really easy for me to work with him. I can't remember when I'd gotten so much support from worried parents. They usually dump their kids in this institution and go on holidays. No joke; the bloody truth. These people weren't even his parents. But they wanted to be and I'd been well aware of what could happen if I sucked in this and thus was the reason why they couldn't be his parents. I would have had a problem. Okay, not god for me; but good for the boy and that was the most important thing. I thumbed through the diaries and made some notes.

I went back to his room,; knocking before I entered. The boy had been sitting on the bed in a completely protective position – legs pulled close against his body, arms slung around, face hidden between his knees.

"Hey Ryan, it's me again. I thought you'd like to know what's the plan is, as long as you stay." I said. He lifted his head, but didn't look at me. I sat down in one of the chairs.

"Okay, well in the first few days my only aim will be getting you to talk a little, maybe looking at the someone you're talking to, and who's talking to you. I know this sounds hard, but I've promised the Cohens I'll help you and them to make the social service agree to your permanent stay with them. I'm sure we can manage that. I can be very convincing." I told him. Mr. Cohen had already told me that assuring and comforting him was helping a lot. I gave it a try. He should know, at least it was him the boy had offered his secrets to.

"Do you think that's okay with you?" I asked him. He only shrugged his shoulders.

"Uh…I thought you already made a step forward in your way of communication. Gestures are not accepted as proper answers." I said. I had to be hard on him. I couldn't allow him to draw further back into his shell. I had to pull him out of it, step by step. I knew it meant taking all protective and defensive behaviour from him; but this was the only way to make him open up to others and let him accept help.

_Dunno_

"Dunno? Dunno what?" I asked him. My first aim was: push him into a conversation or communication.

_Sounds difficult_

"Well, that depends. I mean we both know it's nothing physical, right? I guess there's been a time, in which you've spoke to others, right?" He nodded. I accepted it as an answer.

"So you're only too afraid to say something. That's not bad sometimes; but being afraid all the time is bad." I said to him. Although he wasn't looking at me, I could see that he listened carefully.

"And don't worry, I'll tell the Cohen's, to watch that you stick to these rules. I'm sure they'll eager to do this job." I had to get the Cohen's into the boat as they'd been the only outstanding persons the boy confided in.

"When we've managed that, the Cohen's and your friend are allowed to visit you as much as they and you want to; so they can see what progress you've made. But unfortunately it'll only the first and the easiest step to climb. There will be another one." I put his diaries on the nightstand next to the bed.

"I then want you to read one part after another out of your diaries. Don't be mad at me, but I've already taken a look at them. I want you to read them out aloud and in my presence and the Cohen's; if they can and want to attend." I know that this sounds like torture, but I had to make the boy work out everything he'd bottled up for so long. He had to make a cut; otherwise his future would have been ruined. I also wanted the Cohen's to be there, as I wanted to show him that these people were there for him, as support and that their feelings for him won't change. I've had enough kids like Ryan that thought their bad past might influence their relationship to others. This only leads to problems. I wanted to avoid any possible conflicts.

_**NO!**_

That had been a clear statement and yes; I'd only knew him a few minutes and had already touched a sore point. This wasn't going to be an easy job.

"Oh yes. Well I'll suggest a deal: the harder you work on yourself, the sooner you'll be out of here. It's your choice. It can be four weeks or eight months and longer." I said to him.

_Unfair_

"Ryan I'm going to ask you a question and I want an honest answer: do you really like to be afraid of so many things? Do you like not being able to talk to those who seem to mean something to you? Do you like not being able to say thank you, and looking into their faces?" I recognized him as not only polite person, but actually a kind-hearted one. He's only had been too afraid to show his feelings to others – feelings that would mean so much to certain people.

_No_

"Thanks for the answer, and now let's enjoy the weather outside. You've got to get used to me, because I'll be at your side due the whole day." I said.

I got up and went to the door. It'd taken a while for the boy to unwrap himself out of his position and to get up, but when he finally did; he followed me. We went into the garden. I don't like to sit in one room and have all these conversations. It's too formal, too boring. Going for a walk, doing some sports; that's the best way. It makes the kids forget about their situation and helps them to talk and to cooperate, because they just forget.

"You're not from here, right?" I asked him, while we walked through the garden. He shook his head.

"Where are you from?"

_Bronx, New York_

"Oh, okay. Do you like it there?" I asked him. I've never been the type of person to beat around the bush. I'm used to get into business.

_No_

"Why not?" I asked. I didn't receive an answer.

"Is it because there's the reason you're afraid of so many things?" I got no reaction, which meant I'd hit a nerve – another one today.

"Well, you know when you don't answer me; I know that I hit a nerve, because you're willing to communicate about things that don't bother you. So you better communicate with me, if you want to trick me." This boy had been a challenge, but I love being challenged. The rest of the day we talked– or wrote – about nonsense. I was aware that the boy was under a lot of stress and I was afraid he might not be able to bear it any longer. I had to make him relax a little.

In the evening it was visible that the boy was exhausted.

"Know what, let's get you to bed." I said. We went to his room.

"Take a shower and get ready for bed." I told him and then left him alone for a few minutes. When I came back, he was already dressed for bed.

"Good boy. I want you to take these." I handed him two pills. He didn't take it from me.

"Please Ryan. I know about your insomnia. You need to sleep. You're exhausted and you're here to get better, which means you have to sleep. It's only a mild sleeping pill. It'll only help to fall asleep." I told him. He had to get some sleep. The whole day had been stressful for him and it wasn't going to be easier. He needed all strength he could get.

"C'mon kid. I know you're afraid, but nothing happens here. You have your own room and there's always someone to take care of you." I assured him. Hesitatingly he'd taken those pills.

"That's good." He slipped under the covers of the bed. I tucked him in. He needed all the comfort he could get. Honestly; it'd been the first time that felt bad for sending the parents away for at least five days. Worse of al; it hadn't even been his parents, yet.

The next morning I went to wake him up. Usually we have stuff for this kind of job; but I'd wanted to be with the boy, to check out his reaction. I had the feeling as if this was very important. He was deep asleep. The pills have worked. I walked to the bed and gently shook him. I felt how his body tensed up; he flinched – even in his sleep.

"Hey Ryan, it's time to get up sleepy head." I said and he started to move. He was waking up, and looking awfully pale.

"Hey, how did you sleep?" I asked him, but he didn't answer me. He looked really green.

"Okay, you don't feel good, right?" He only nodded and then ran into the bathroom. I heard him retching. I went to the door and slowly opened it. I kneeled down to him, rubbing his back.

"It's alright, just little side effect of the sleeping pills, huh?" I felt his body tense up again at my touch. This boy had been afraid of every interpersonal activity. He stopped retching.

"Feel better now?" I asked. He nodded.

"Okay then, get cleaned up and I'll ask someone from the kitchen for something light for your stomach." I left him. I'd started to worry. Maybe it was better if I called his maybe-parents. I didn't know.

After some breakfast I'd gone with him into a quiet room. It was time to start.

"Okay, today we're starting with a little exercise. I'll ask you some questions and you only have to answer yes or no. But I want the answers in words and I want that you look at me when you're answering. The answers will be obvious so there's no possibility you can do anything wrong." His body immediately had tensed up and shook his head.

"When was the last time you've spoke?" I asked him. He shrugged his shoulders.

"You don't know? Are we talking about months or years?" I asked him.

_Years_

"Okay, that's long; but you don't have to be worried; maybe it's easier if you just pretend I'm not here when you answer the question." I told him. He'd withdrawn again; further back into his shell.

"Just give it a try. I'm going to show you a picture now." I held up a card with a black eight on it.

"This is an eight, yes or no?" I asked him. I saw that he'd seen the card; but he didn't answer. He was shaking violently. He was nervous, focusing the ground; avoiding me.

"Is this an eight?" I asked again. He nodded.

"Say it in words." I said. I had to push him. I was a little concerned about his state then. I've worked with kids with similar problems; but I've never had a kid that was afraid of speaking.

"Just say the word, 'yes'." I tried to encourage him. "Just say the word. It's really easy. If you want to, I can leave the room, so you have some time to prepare." I asked him, but he'd shaken his head. He'd been willing, but the fight was rough for him. I held up the card that he could look at it.

"Is there anything I can do to make it easier for you?" I asked. He shook his head. He knew that this was his fight. It nearly hurt to see how he was struggling with trying to say this one word. I just waited. I had to be patient. This is what my job is about: being patient. I don't know how long I'd been waiting for an answer; but I saw how it'd been working in his head.

"Yes." This word was said into the complete silence, but it had nearly been inaudible. He hadn't looked at me; but he just continued to stare at the ground. The word had been more mumbled than said; but at least I'd gotten something from him.

"That's a start. Maybe you can raise your voice a little." I told him. This wasn't something someone could do in a rush. Step by step; this is the way it has to go. It'd been a hard job; though more for him than for me.

"Yes." He raised his voice a little more, but it sounded unconfident. He'd been so afraid of saying something wrong.

"That was better. Just say it again only a little louder. There's nothing to be afraid of." He still continued to look at the ground; but I first needed get him comfortable with the answer and then I could work on the other issues. It'd taken again several minutes for him to speak again. He was still shaking.

"Yes." This time his voice was nearly on normal speaking-volume; but he still sounded apprehensive. I was sure this would change in time. If he hadn't been speaking for years, it was certain that he'd have trouble doing so.

"Very good; now I want you to look at me when you say this word." I said to him. This was the other step. He moved his head further away.

"Oh no, I'm sitting in the opposite direction and you know that. I'll tell you a little trick, but then you have to look at me, deal?" I asked him and he nodded.

"If you don't like to look into people eyes, just focus on something behind them. It looks like you're looking at them and nobody notices that you're not. In this case you can focus on the window behind me." I told him. He slowly turned his head into my direction; still ducked. He lifted it slowly. He managed to lift his eyes on my eyelevel and for one second I had been able to see those ocean blue eyes. He immediately ducked his head again.

"This was your first try; now try it again." He did. Again I could see those blue eyes; again only for a few seconds.

"You should at least look up for as long as the word 'yes' needs to slip from your mouth." I told him. Again he lifted his head. It'd been on my eyelevel again, his eyes squinted, he slowly opened them.

"Yes." He said, into my eyes and immediately turned his head away from me.

"That's it. That's how it should work, but don't rush to look away again. You need to stay calm. I'm not hurting you, I won't." I told him. I gave him a moment to regain his strength again and then we went on. I only asked him questions being answered with 'yes' as it is easier to say yes, as we all know. It still was a fight for him to say this word aloud and into my face, but the struggle eased off and I had the feeling as if he'd started to relax a little.

"Alright, this is black, right?" I held up a green card. This time he had to say 'no'. I saw how he turned from relaxed into strained again. His body language was, and is strong. If you can read it, it's easy to help him or to find out what's wrong. I made use of it.

"If you can't say it, just give me the gesture first." He shook his head.

"So no, this isn't black. Now you only have to say this word. It's just a 'no'. A 'n'o doesn't hurt anyone." I had to explain him the meaning of 'no' in another way than he'd known it.

"A 'no' helps you to defend yourself. A 'no' can protect you. A 'no' is a clear answer for other people. A 'no' tells other people to back off. A 'no' doesn't harm anyone. Well, they might be a little disappointed, but that's okay, because they get the chance to find someone who says and means 'yes' and that's a lot better, right? I mean someone who says 'yes' but means 'no' is a liar, right? So a 'no' keeps you from lying." I started to struggle explaining 'no' in a positive way.

"This word has hurt you a lot, right?" I asked him and he nodded. I hadn't expected an answer.

"You need to be able to say 'no'. It'll only help you. It'll help you to prevent getting hurt. You don't have to hurt anyone with the word 'no'. It only depends on the way you pronounce it. Sometimes you need some more words to say 'no', but it'll prevent anyone from getting hurt. Just give it a try. This 'no' hear obviously can't hurt anyone. This is a clear answer. Just say it."

"No." Again it'd only been a nearly inaudible whisper. Again I had to work hard to get him looking at me when he was saying it. The work with the 'no' had been harder; but we managed it. At the end of this exercise the boy had been mental and physically exhausted.

"Okay, let's have a break; get something to eat and then just relax okay? This is the only exercise for today."


	15. to share

**A/N.:** Again a big thanks to my Beta, who's doing a great job!

* * *

_**15: To share**_

The five days passed by slowly. We received a call everyday from the doctor who told us that Ryan was making frequent progress, and that he was willing to change. It'd made our heart jump; because it was a sign for us that he wanted to stay with us, as we wanted him to. I'd wanted to witness how he'd started to talk to someone; how he'd started to lose some of his fears, but I wasn't allowed to; for the boy's sake. On Saturday we eventually were allowed to visit him. All three of us had been eager to see him again. Especially our son, he'd been thinking of so many things he could to on the last weeks of vacations with his new friend. He'd made a real schedule. We, for our part had only wanted him home with us – nothing more. We had to meet Dr. Morgan before we were allowed to meet Ryan. She'd told us that we should make sure that he looked at us while speaking. That should be manageable. What was worse was that she wanted us to attend meetings in which Ryan started to read parts of his diary. My husband's reaction had told me that it was awful; what he'd written in there. I hadn't been sure whether I'd be able to listen to all of it; but Dr. Morgan had insisted we attend. It was important for him to know his past didn't change our affection for him and he had to deal with it; with our help as we were going to be his new family. She also said that we have to know what had happened to him. If it was going to help him to trust us, and if it was helping to convince child services, I would have listened to everything. We went into the garden. The boy was sitting at one of the tables reading a book. We went towards him.

"Hey kid." My husband said when we arrived at his table and sat down. The boy looked up from his book, but not at us. The boy still needed a lot of time and our patience, but we were more than willing to give it to him.

"You look a little tired." I said. He only nodded. "Wait, what did Dr. Morgan say?" I reminded him and he blushed.

"You still don't like talking too much. Well, you should start and like it, because otherwise I'll start telling you stories you don't want to listen to, and only you talking can hinder me from that." My son had started to lighten up the atmosphere and a small lopsided smile appeared on his face.

"So, how do you like it here?" I asked him. I intentionally chose a question he couldn't answer with yes or no.

"'kay." He answered in a very low voice, without looking at us.

"What?" My son asked. The boy hesitatingly turned his head into my son's direction.

"Okay." He said and then turned his head away.

"So you don't hate us for this?" My husband asked and the boy only shook his head. It had hurt to see how he was struggling to communicate with us.

"Ryan, you have to stick to the rules if you want to come home with us." I said. I'd carefully taken his face into my hands and turned it in my direction. I forced him to look into my eyes.

"And now in a full sentence. I know it's hard for you, but we're all here to help you make it easier." I tried to comfort him.

"No…I…I don't…hate…you." He said. I felt that he had tried to turn his head away, but I gently hindered him.

"That's my boy." I said and pecked him onto his forehead. "It's not that bad, right? There's nothing for you to be afraid of." I told him. He only nodded. I let him go free again.

"So your fast progress brings me to the assumption that you really would like to come with us." My husband said; and again the boy blushed.

"Do you?" I asked him. I saw him swallowing. Dr. Morgan had told us that conversations will be hard and a torture for him, but we had to insist on talking to him, and not only about the weather. As soon as he was able to talk about serious things, things that bothered him - his emotions - as soon he could talk about them, he'd be able to live a nearly normal life.

"Ryan you can tell us. Every answer is okay, and no matter what you say, we won't leave you, unless you want us to." I soothed him. He'd started trembling, but he looked up at us.

"Yes, I…I want to…just…" And then he broke up. This had been more than the answers he had prepared in the sessions with Dr. Morgan.

"Just? Now you have to finish the sentence." I was afraid the boy might collapse every minute. Fear had been radiating from him.

"Ryan, you need to tell us, what's in your mind." My husband started.

"Just…afraid…this…doesn't work." He whispered.

"Nah, don't worry dude. There's no way that this isn't going to work. I promise you. If the 'rents don't stick to the plan, we'll ground them or something. Buddy, you still have me and I can be very convincing when I have to." Our son answered, trying to get some tension out of the atmosphere.

"Seth is right. I don't see any possibility for that this isn't going to work. " My husband assured him.

"It's understandable that you're afraid. This is a fast change. But if we didn't mean it, we wouldn't have offered it – we wouldn't be fighting for it as we do right now. Ryan, we want you and we're doing all this just for you; so you can stay with us. I'm sure it'll work." I added. The boy only nodded. I hadn't been sure, whether he believed us. I only could hope. After this we allowed the boy to retreat a little and let us do the talk. There was no need to overtax him. He already looked exhausted, and we knew what'd been coming up to all of us this afternoon. This would be the first family session. I'd been nervous. Not because I wanted to know what had happened to him, but because I was afraid of not being able to handle what he has to tell us. We've talked to our son, but he'd wanted to stay. He took the whole situation very serious and I'm proud of him. He had wanted Ryan to be part of the family, as we all did. He considered Ryan as his brother he always wanted. Well, there was nothing left to be discussed. I hadn't been sure if I wanted him to listen to what Ryan had to say to us, but Dr. Morgan would be there and Seth could leave the room, if he wasn't able to listen to all these stories. Dr. Morgan picked us up for the first attempt. She had told us not to expect too much. We entered the room. It was the room Ryan stayed in for his time in the institution. It looked very comfortable with the dark wood furniture and the huge bed.

* * *

We all entered the boy's temporary room. I'd asked my son once again whether he was sure he wanted to attend this, and he had said yes. He was old enough to know whether he was mature enough or not. It had been his decision and in somehow it showed me again that he isn't this self-absorbed boy he sometimes seems to be. Well, okay he hadn't had another chance, as he'd been alone for a long time.

"Okay, we all know what this about today." Dr. Morgan started; when she'd closed the door.

"I want Ryan to decide when to start or whether to start this. I want to make this a comfortable as possible for you." She spoke in the boy's direction. He only shook his head. He wasn't ready for this.

"Ryan, give it at least a try. You have to." Dr. Morgan insisted. I'd wanted to intervene, to tell him he doesn't have to, if he doesn't want to. But I have no knowledge about this and I didn't known how important this was. His diaries lay on the bed. He sat beside them and retreated into his protective position. He clearly hadn't been ready.

"Ryan, you know what I told you. You want to get out of here and you want to go home with the Cohen's and Seth; but you need to work for it. There's no other way." Dr. Morgan had gone on speaking. I wanted to tell her to stop and leave the boy alone. I got up. I wanted to comfort the boy who had been badly intimidated, but this woman stopped me. I started to get annoyed. The boy needed someone.

"Look Ryan, everybody is here now. Everybody is here to listen to you and to help you. Nobody will make use of what you have to tell us. They only want to give you the support you need to live with it." She went on. I was watching my wife. She'd been nervously squeezing her hands in her lap. I caught her look and it'd been full of concern. I was sure she had been thinking the same as I was. Only my son seemed to be relaxed.

"Ryan, I know how you feel right now. You're embarrassed and you're thinking that everybody would laugh at you and make fun of you after you told us, but in this room nobody will do that. Well, I won't and my parents won't neither. I don't know Dr. Morgan much though, but I think she won't too. She doesn't look really funny." My son started to talk and in that moment I hadn't known whether to make him shut up or to go on. Well, stopping my son when he had starts to talk is nearly impossible, so I let him go on. At least he'd been the one starting to communicate with Ryan.

"Know what? I start telling something, I've never told anyone before, because I'm so afraid of telling someone. You know that blond guy Luke, right? The one you kicked the ass of that day in the dinner. Well he and his gang – all water polo players – just one day…they…well …" I had been anxious to know what was coming up to us.

"They know that I don't like to use the showers in the gym. So I usually wait until I'm home. But one day, when I came back into the locker room, my real cloths had been gone, my sneakers too. I went searching for them and found them in the men's room. And yes, they had peed on my cloths and in my sneakers. It wouldn't have been that bad, because I still had my sports cloths on; but unfortunately I hadn't been alone in the locker room. Luke and his buddies came in and they forced me into these ugly showers – you know those with all the bacteria in them. They turned on the shower, which was very cold and then just…pulled…down my…sweatpants including my boxers…you…know they only have this elastic band…and there I stood; naked and everybody had been laughing at me. Worst of all I had no clue how to come home again. I had no cloths and everybody had been laughing at me. They started to make lame jokes and into the bargain I'd started crying. No good idea. It only made everything worse. I had to wait until evening to be able to leave – until I'd been sure I was safe from the others. The next weeks at school had been hell and since then I always have some spare cloths in my locker." My jaw dropped. I really hadn't known that.

"Sweetie, why haven't you said something?" My wife rushed over to him and took him into her arms.

"Because I was afraid. I didn't know how you would react and…it had just been fucking embarrassing." My son answered. I got up to comfort him too. It'd been very brave of him to tell us this, and in front of some stranger.

"Seth, you have to tell us things like that. Why are you embarrassed to tell us things like that? We would never laugh at you. You know that." I said to him. My own son and…I hate this Ward kid. There had to be something done. He was terrorising my son and Ryan. I'd been in rage; if only I'd known before.

"Oh honey, you don't have to go through things like that on your own. It's our job to help you with things like that." My wife said. I looked back to the boy. He'd been listening to it all and he didn't give the impression that thinking about this was something funny. He didn't laugh or grin.

"Even Ryan doesn't laugh about this." I said. He shook his head violently.

"No…you should have told me earlier, the guy wouldn't have known what was up or down." Ryan answered, but I heard the angry tone in his voice.

"Then it is better that he didn't tell you. Ryan, as much I appreciate your loyalty towards Seth; I don't want you to force any kind of violent revenge. This is neither good for you or for Seth. Understood?" He nodded.

"Well, I can understand Seth." My wife started. "It's not easy to talk about things like that. I know one day, I'd been about twelve or something, and my Dad came home from work. He'd been very busy those days. His job had worn him out. When he came home he'd just wanted to relax, but I'd wanted him to go to the beach with me. He'd promised me we'd go weeks ago and still hadn't fulfilled his promise. I had gone to him and asked whether he was ready to go to the beach. He'd said no, because he was too tired. I'd been sad and angry then and told him that he always was tired, and he told me that he'd had a laborious job. I don't know what had hit me then. I guess it had been puberty. I had started to scream at him, that his job was more important to him than I was, and then he'd slapped my face. My face had been black and blue for one week." I was gasping for breath, when she told this; this asshole of a man. If I'd known earlier he would regret that he'd ever had hit his daughter; my wife.

"He never did this again so I still think that it had been my fault. I shouldn't have bothered him with that. So I didn't tell anyone." My wife stopped.

"Sorry for me to intervene in this, but this definitely wasn't your fault. People who raise kids know that they can be challenging and that they can provoke a slap; it's well known. But hitting them black and blue can never be justified." Dr. Morgan stepped in.

"But it's exactly this feeling; of being to be blamed for what happened makes kids stay silent about their experiences." She explained. Again I looked at the boy and saw he was listening carefully.

"Why haven't you told me?" I asked my wife.

"I wanted to prevent you killing my Dad. I know you hate him." She said with a smile on her face.

"Oh no, he's not worth it being killed, but I promise you this person isn't spending one Thanksgiving with us anymore." I am so fed up with him. I took my wife into my arms and kissed her; as if this could make it any better.

"So, Grandpa is really an asshole. Good to know." My son added.

"Then it's only me missing, what?" I said. I had to step into this. I'd no clues as to what this was supposed to mean, but everybody participated, so I had to too.

"I don't know; I'd been eight or something. My Dad used to drink a lot after work. I guess he'd been an alcoholic. This is the only explanation as to why he'd been able to drink these masses without falling into a coma. One night he'd been very drunk and he and my Mom used to argue then. They'd been screaming and yelling at each other. My father had thrown something at my Mom – maybe a plate or a mug – I don't remember. I still remember every second when he lifted his hand and started to hit my Mom. It must have been hard, because my Mom stumbled backwards. Unfortunately he noticed I'd been watching him. He had grabbed my arms and my other siblings and locked us up in a closet. We'd been four kids in one closet. It'd been dark and hell knows how long we had to wait until someone opened the door. It had been my Mom who opened it at the end; her face full of tears. She had taken every one of us into her arms and told us it was over. Since then I've never seen my father again." I said. Again I watched the boy who was listening carefully.

"I knew your life had been rough, but I didn't know it had been that bad." Wife said when she laid an arm around me.

"It's hard to tell people things like that. They become so real and you have to think about them again. You can't deny it." I told her.

"That's true. Denying isn't possible now." She said. We'd watched the boy's reaction.


	16. Mute

**A/N.:** Sorry for not updating as frequently as I used to, but sometimes I have a realy life to deal with and right now this real life is keeping me from writing and posting.

Thanks again to my wonderful Beta ParisAmy for the great job she's doing.

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_**16. Mute**_

"_I came home from school. My Mom was in the kitchen. When I came in, she looked at me, but said nothing. She just glared at me and I knew she was high and drunk. I didn't know what she'd taken and I didn't care. I also don't care how she got the money for the stuff. I don't want to know what she'd sold. She's selling everything for this shit. Really, everything. I only hoped it wouldn't be me paying the bills again._

"_Ryan, baby?" She called. I didn't react. I wasn't in the mood for coping with my drunk and high mother. It's too hard to do so. I can't stand the mood swings. She came into my room. Of course she didn't bother knocking on the door first. I have no privacy. In general there's nothing I own. I possess nothing._

"_Can you do me a little favour?" She asked. No I couldn't. I just didn't dare to say these words; not right in that moment. My body was still sore from her boyfriend's outburst last night. I couldn't risk it getting worse._

"_A.J. needs someone in the Club tonight." That meant dealing. Great. I hate this stuff. I don't even take it, but I'm supposed to sell it to everyone. I hate it and I even don't get paid; but my ass kicked._

"_I don't need to ask whether there's someone else he can ask?" I asked back._

"_Oh baby, I know you're tired. But look, A.J.'s doing so much for us. I don't know what we would be without him." Sober and clean and less bruised. I only thought these sentences, because my Mom had started to develop a taste for violence too. I don't want to get my ass kicked from two people now._

"_When?" I only asked._

"_One in the morning." Great. I have to get up at six. Shit. Again there was no sleep in sight. I waited. This waiting is the reason of why I use to do my homework. It helps me to think of other thoughts; because thinking about the dealing job isn't really comforting._

_I went to the Club. A.J. had already been waiting for me. _

"_Hey punk!" He yelled. I hate it when he calls me that. "A little faster." Why? He wanted something from me. I don't want anything from you. I reached him. I still can't look at him and I'm afraid of him. I really am. Trey would laugh at me. He never understands. But he also pissed off without me._

"_Okay, here's the stuff. I want you to sell it all. Tonight is a good night, so don't mess it up." He told me. I only nodded and went in. I know I'm too young. But nobody checks your ID and I guess I look older than I am and I don't know if I like it. I went through the Club and sold the whole shit. It'd been five in the morning when I met A.J. and gave him his money – at home._

"_That's not all the money."_

"_It is." I'd never take any of it. He never would believe me. _

"_Stop lying to me." And thus he landed the first blow in my face. I didn't fight back. It only makes him angrier and saves me a lot of pain. I was still on my feet. I shouldn't be; but his blow hadn't had the force to knock me down._

"_Getting obstreperous?" He only asked and had planted another blow. This one had knocked me down. I don't like the dizziness after a blow to the head, it makes you weak. I felt him grab my arms and drag me through the room. He dragged me down stairs. Shit. I'd begged him not to and I really don't use to beg; but it didn't work. He threw me down into the basement and closed the door and then he he'd given space to his rage. He beat me first, for as long as I'd been able to stay on my feet; but more than three beats into the stomach is just not possible to bear. Then he kicked as if I was some kind of lifeless bag. He kicked into my side and I felt my ribs give in; definitely no school tomorrow. I closed my eyes and waited for it to end. He stopped at some point, probably because he was getting bored. Then he left. He locked the door up. I hadn't known when I could come out again. It could take some months. He only came down to make me deal. Sometimes he allows me to get changed; that's why I have the book here. My Mom? She doesn't care. She's too high or too drunk to notice anything. I hate the basement. It's cold, it's dark – there's not even a window – and there are rats. I hate rats. I want to get out of here. I have to get out of here. Tonight I had a job in the Club again. I sold all the stuff and got even more than what it was worth it. I knew if they found out that they'd paid more than the stuff was worth, it would be my ass they kicked. But I hoped I could make A.J. let me out of the basement. I won't survive one night longer._

"_Hey punk, got my money?" I nodded. I handed it to him. He counted it. Not good or maybe good, because he'll notice it's more._

"_Where's the rest?" He asked. He caught me off guard. I'd thought he'd notice that it was more than he could expect._

"_Shit, punk, I asked you where the rest is?" He screamed at me. I'd only been able to shake my head. I had no answer._

"_This…this is even more. Just…count again." I'd stammered. Bad idea._

"_Now you think I'm dumb or what?" He slapped my face. Again the same cheek, the same bruise. I ask myself sometimes; whether this cheek will ever heal properly again._

"_No…I…" He punched me again. I had no idea what I'd done wrong._

"_You'll have to pay back the money that's missing." He said. I had no clue what he meant. _

"_How?" I asked him, wiping away the blood from my lip._

"_You'll see." He said and planted another punch in my face. I could already feel how my eye started to swell. I'd no chance to defend myself. He grabbed me at my shoulders and then threw me down the basement. What could I do? I can't escape from here. I'm trapped. I had an awful headache; and only then I'd noticed that I'd been bleeding somewhere on my head. I started to feel nauseas. I felt the lump in my throat. I had gulped violently. I hadn't wanted to puke in the basement; but I couldn't keep my stomachs content and burst into a hurtful retching. It took my stomach some time to calm down again; it'd felt like hours. My stomach felt better but not my head. I'd been dizzy and tiered. I hid in a corner and closed my eyes. Not good. I could have had a concussion and then I might have never woken up again. But I hadn't been sure whether I'd wanted to wake up again anyway. Not waking up didn't sound too bad in that moment. I just closed my eyes._

_A.J. didn't come back for …I don't know. I had no light, no window. I hadn't been able to know how late it was. My watch on my wrist is broken, though I still wore it. I was hungry and thirsty. Maybe this time he just would forget about me. I wouldn't bother if he never came back again – neither of them. Nevertheless I couldn't get his words out of my head. How was I supposed to pay him back the money, when he kept me here? Did he have a plan? No, I didn't think so. Maybe I should have called for my Mom and bang on the door. Maybe she would open it and let me out. I went up stairs and banged on the door._

"_Mom?!" I called. I had to get out. I'm afraid of rats. They bite and I don't want to know what kind of infectious germs they're carrying around in their mouth._

"_Shut up Ryan!" She yelled back. No. No. No. I really wished she was clean and sober more often, but why now?_

"_Mom, please! I'll do everything you want me to." I started begging. Maybe the thought of getting booze could make her open the door. Sometimes it works._

"_Shut up! I've got an awful headache and you're making it worse." She yelled back._

"_I'll stop calling, when you let me out." I started to argue. I only wanted to get out. I slammed harder on the door, hoping it would give in. The whole house is rotten. It should be easy to get this door open with force._

"_One more noise from you and I'll send A.J. to you." Oh shit. This hadn't been good._

"_But Mom, you can't leave me here forever." I went on. She only had to open the door. Nothing more._

"_SHUT UP!" She yelled. Her voice cracked. No I wouldn't get out today. I went down again, back into my corner, hoping the rats would stop bothering me. I'd been in luck. A.J. didn't come. This is what I had thought. Later A.J. came with a man in tow; I haven't seen him before. I got up on my feet. I hadn't wanted him to recognize how afraid I was. I wanted to be strong. I had to be. There's no one else being strong. It's only me._

"_Hey punk, you were bothering you mother today?" He got closer and I'd felt his breath in my face. He'd been drunk. I smelt it. I don't like it when he's drunk. He never finds an end then. He can beat me up for what feels like hours. I shook my head. It had been some kind of reflex._

"_Fuck. Stop lying. You're such a liar." He screamed and slapped my face again. No this cheek never will heal properly, unless he just forgets me or dies._

"_So, this here is a friend of mine." He introduced the other man. Since when did he have friends?_

"_I told you, that you have to pay me back the money that'd been missing. Well he'll explain how." I hadn't understood what he meant. Was this man supposed to give me a job? Was there a new area, a new club where I was supposed to deal? I only looked at A.J._

"_Be nice to him. If there are any complaints about you, I swear you won't know what hits you." He said and then left. He'd closed the door and I heard the lock. Why did he lock this man up too? I went backwards and tried to hide in the corner. I pressed myself against it as hard as possible._

"_Hey, so you're Ryan." The man said. He'd been skinny and his eyes told me he had been high. I saw the injection scars in the crook of his arms._

"_You're Dawn's youngest." I nodded. I'd been too intimidated to say anything. _

"_Are you afraid?" I shook my head otherwise he would think I'm weak and that's never good. If they know you're weak they can do what they want with you. They do what they want with you – stealing everything from you, until you're only a remaining shell._

"_That's good. It would only make the whole procedure more complicated." He came closer. He started to pull off his belt. I hate belts. They leave these nasty scars when they beat you with the side with the buckle. He brandished it in front of my eyes. I'd begged inwardly to not beat me with it. I felt relieved when he dropped the belt down. I had no idea what this had meant. The sound of the buckle hitting the ground made me flinch._

"_You're a little jumpy, aren't you?" He asked. _

"_Don't worry. I'll be very smooth." He said and rubbed my upper arm. I know this should have rung any bells, but shit. I'd been so fucking afraid. I'd known in somehow this wasn't good, but how was I supposed to realize how wrong it was; what he was doing?_

"_Do you have a girlfriend?" He asked and I shook my head._

"_Pretty lonely without a woman, very boring. But now we have us." And this had rung a lot of bells. I tried to push him off of me. He stumbled backwards and I had the chance to run. Instinctively I ran to the door and slammed against it._

"_Mom! Let me the fuck out of here!" I screamed. I slammed against the door with my fists. At first it had hurt, but soon my fists had been numb._

"_Mom, don't leave me alone with this fucking pervert!" I screamed. I heard footsteps. Eventually my Mom had heard. No, she hadn't. It had been A.J.. He opened the door and his glance wasn't nice._

"_I told you to be nice!" He screamed and forced me back down the basement._

"_So how do you like it; well done or still a little bloody?" A.J. asked his friend who had smirked at this question. There was nothing funny about it._

"_A little bloody is good." He answered. It took a while for me to realise, they were talking about me._

"_Come here boy; let me teach you a lesson about politeness and respect." _

"_Why? He's the pervert!" I screamed at him and caught a fist. The taste of blood spread through my mouth._

"_I haven't done anything wrong! I won't let this bastard touch me, where his hands don't belong!" I caught the second fist. I had to fight this. I hadn't wanted to allow it._

"_Why are you fighting this so hard? The more you say, the more it'll hurt." A.J. said. I didn't listen._

"_Just stop it! It had been more money than it should have been. There's nothing to pay back." I felt the tears welling up my eyes. I caught the third fists that eventually knocked me down._

"_Little brat, you don't have a chance. It's done, as I've said." I crawled back onto all fours. I felt blood seeping out of my nose. I'd wanted to get back onto my feet, but he kicked into my side. I don't need a medical degree to know that my ribs are broken. I can feel it. Worse of all; you can't move when they're broken. I felt the tears tickling in my eyes._

"_Who's the strong guy now?" A.J. asked when he planted another kick somewhere in my belly. I had to gasp for breath._

"_That's enough A.J. I don't want him dead. It's less fun then." The other man said and A.J. stopped. He dragged me by my collar, back onto my feet._

"_And now it's done as I said, or I'm back and I don't know if you'll like it." A.J. said and pushed me back onto the ground. The man came back to me._

"_Please don't." I begged. I felt miserable enough for begging like a puppy._

"_Oh n, I paid for it. I'll tell you something: just shut up and it won't be too bad." He said. He came closer and closer. My body tensed up again and I ignored the striking pain in my chest._

"_Don't fight it. It'll only hurt more then." The man said. I fought his hands, pushing them away. I tried to push him away, but I didn't have enough strength left to hold the fight up right. I wish he had been fast. But he hadn't. This man had…enjoyed every nanosecond, every hand movement and every moan. He'd started to like it more, when the tears started to stream down, when I started to wince in pain – the movement had hurt awfully, especially in my chest and side. When he was done he went off and left me in the basement. My Mom had come downstairs._

"_Oh baby, what had happened to your face?" She asked. Again she was high and drunk. But nevertheless her comfort had soothed me a little – when she tried to wipe the tears away with an old handkerchief._

"_What did this man do to you?"_

"_He…he…did…" I couldn't speak through my sobs._

"_Did he touch you?" She asked and I nodded. "Oh baby." She had taken me into her arms._

"_He's lying. My friend never would do that." A.J. screamed. He grabbed my Mom's arm and pulled her away from me._

"_Leave her alone!" I screamed._

"_Fucking bitch, how often do I need to tell you your son is a liar? You can't believe him. He's a thief stealing our money, and he's telling lies about our friends." He yelled at her._

"_Ryan, is it true?" She asked. I have seen the tears in her eyes. _

"_No." I answered._

"_I believe you." She said. This had blown A.J.'s top. He started to flail at her. I tried to save her, but A.J. kicked me into the corner. He dragged her away. I believe you, was all she mouthed when she was torn away from me. A.J. came back._

"_If you ever say one word about this here to anyone, I swear I'll kill your mother. One wrong word and she's dead." He threatened me. Since then my Mom used to have headaches every day. I just shut up. I didn't want to bother her and I knew A.J.'s definition of wrong. I just stopped saying anything. Chino is small. He'd have found out. I shut up, as my Mum had said. I didn't scream or do anything, when A.J. brought one friend after another, and my Mum never came to comfort me again._

_I had been twelve and already possessed nothing; not even my body had been mine anymore."_

He didn't read it. He told us. He didn't dare to look onto the blood and tear stained sheets of paper. I saw how slowly tears dripped down his cheek onto the carpet. I sat down next to him and took him into my arms. How could his mother have been so afraid of saving her son? I would give my life to safe my son from this. I can't imagine that a mother considers her life as more important than her son's.

"Shh." I soothed him, rocking him slightly, letting him feel I was there.

"You're safe with us. We'll do everything that this won't happen again." I stroked his hair, pecked the top of his head. As if I could make it better again.

"Promise me, if someone ever lays hand on you, no matter how and where, no matter whom it is; tell us. We need to know this. We'll help you. We're there for you. I promise." I told him. I hadn't wanted to imagine someone doing something like this to my boys. This someone would never see the sunlight and moon again, if I found him.


	17. Looking away

**A/N.:** Thanks a lot to my wonderful Beta ParisAmy

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**_17. Looking away_**

_When I woke up, I was hungry, thirsty and sore. I got up. The left side of the bed was empty. Trey must have already been awake. I got up and went into the bathroom to clean up. In the mirror I saw I had two black eyes again. I hoped they would be gone by Monday; because my teachers always asked so many questions about where I get the bruises from. I had to find other stories. If I always told them I fell off my bike or downstairs, they'd start thinking I was disabled or something. I carefully washed my face and then my teeth. Then I went into the living room. The TV had been switched on. I sometimes think my Mum never switches it off. I wanted to say something, but she'd been asleep. My Mum doesn't like it, when I wake her up. She says she's had a hard day and needs her rest. I'd believed it then. I went into the kitchen. The refrigerator had been empty, despite the water Mum used to drink. It always had been Mommy's special water; until I knew it was vodka. I took some of the money I'd earned from my little job - doing a paper round, mowing the lawn; things like that - and went for some groceries. I knew Mom would be happy about it and I wanted to make her happy, because she'd been crying a lot lately. When I went to the shops there was Trey outside with his friends. When he was with his friends he used to pretend that he didn't know me. I'd just been his little boring and embarrassing sibling. I bought some things: cereals, peaches, cheese, toast, some eggs, juice and milk. I went out and Trey and his friends were still there. I'd pretended as if I didn't know him either. That's fair, right? But he stepped in my way._

"_Hey baby bro, think you're better than me, or why do you pretend as if you don't know me?" He asked._

"_Because you do too." I answered. He smacked my head. I hated it when he did that, because he started to smack with more force every time._

"_Don't me smug to me. I'm your big brother." I looked into his eyes and saw that he was angry. I have no idea what it had been. But Trey used to be angry. I don't know him any different._

"_Don't smack me." I protested. His friends had started laughing. He became even angrier and started to push me around._

"_Stop it!"I yelled at him._

"_Why would I?" He asked. I looked into his eyes. "Don't look at me like that shithead." He said. I didn't care. I carried on looking. I wanted to show him that I wasn't afraid of him._

"_Stop looking at me like that!" He suddenly screamed and pushed me with that much force that I fell. I let the bag with the groceries fall. Immediately Trey took all peaches and the cereals from me._

"_Thanks a lot little bro." He said when I tried to get up from my butt again. When I stumbled back onto my feet, he pushed me once more, and I fell again. _

"_This happens if you look into other people's eyes." He'd said to me and then pissed off._

_Great, now not only my palms, but also my knees were scratched and it burnt like hell. Tears had been welling up in my eyes. It hadn't been because of the pain or because my brother had hurt me – once again. It had been because the milk and the juice were spread all over the pavement as well as the eggs. The toast had been drenched in the juice-milk-liquid and the cheese was gone too. This had made me sad. I was awfully hungry. I hadn't eaten anything good in days and I didn't have enough money to buy all these things again. I didn't go home afterwards. I strayed through the streets of Chino. I was too sad to go back home again. I would only have met my sad Mom and I wasn't in the mood to face her. I had only wanted something to eat and something to drink other than water. It had become dark; so it was time for me to go home. I slowly went home. When I stepped up the porch I heard someone calling me._

"_Ryan!" It was Theresa. We were in same class, and we used to do our projects and assignments together. At least she was the only one that never bothered me because of my bruises._

"_Hey." I said and went to her. She was always smiling. She lived together with her Mom and brother. Her Dad was gone too; but they seemed to be happy though._

"_I wanted to ask whether you would like to have dinner with us." She asked. I didn't answer. My head said it was embarrassing if you had to get something to eat at some stranger's home. My stomach said yes; because I hadn't had anything proper for days._

"_C'mon Ryan. It was my Mom's idea and since Arturo told her about what your brother had done to you, she wants to know whether she can prepare you something you like." She said. Oh no, they'd known. I still didn't give an answer, but she had taken my hand and then tore me inside her house. Her Mom and her brother were already sitting at the dinner table. I still have no idea how Theresa's Mom was always able to have so much food at home. They hadn't much more money than we had._

"_Hey Ryan: nice to see you again." Theresa's Mom said and filled a plate with food; and everything had been for me. She used to give me more than I could eat. But she always insisted I eat it all – she even did so, when I'd stopped talking. My belly felt full and cramped after the meal, but it was a nice feeling. I was full and my hunger was gone, and that always had been something good. After dinner Theresa and I did some homework together and enjoyed the evening. But I had to go home; I was already late. I opened the door to the house slowly; without making any noise. My Mom was watching TV. Her head snapped into my direction, when I landed one foot in the house._

"_Where have you been, Ryan?" She asked me._

"_At Theresa's." I answered her._

"_Your brother's been home for hours. Only his little useless brother can't stick to a curfew." These words hurt – every single one and since when does Mom have a curfew? We never used to have one. I've never had the feeling that she even cared when I'd got home._

"_I'm sorry Mum. I forgot how late it is." I apologized._

"_Just shut up and piss off. I don't want to see you anymore." She said. This sentence again had torn my heart into pieces, like always when she says things like that. I hadn't been able to fight the tears. They just came._

"_Stop crying. You're no baby anymore."She didn't even scream at me. She stayed calm as if this was the most normal thing to say to your son. It was the most normal thing being said to me, but it still hurt like hell. This sentence had only forced me to more tears and I'd disappeared in my – our room. Trey laid spread all over the bed. I'd wanted to sit down on the edge, but he pushed me off._

"_No space for pussies." He said. That was unfair._

"_This…is my bed too!" I screamed._

"_Shut up and piss off. It isn't my fault that you came home too late." He said. I was tired and I wanted to go to bed. I had wanted to crawl under my blanket and cry me to sleep, but he didn't let me._

"_Please Trey." I begged and again looked into his eyes._

"_Stop looking at me like that." He said and kicked after me. I swerved; thus he didn't encounter me._

"_Then go to your side of the bed." I answered. _

"_You can sleep on the carpet." He said. I didn't want to sleep on the carpet. It had been dirty and itchy and it was hard on the floor._

"_No."_

"_Your choice." He said and got up. "Mom, Ryan's being naughty again!" He screamed._

"_Ryan stop it, now!" Mom screamed, but didn't come. I felt safe, because if she wasn't there, she wouldn't slap me._

"_I only want my side of the bed." I said._

"_Mom!" Trey called again._

"_What the fuck is going on here?!" It had been one of Mom's boyfriends. He stood tall like a bear in the doorframe. I stepped behind Trey, but he sneaked out of the door and then I'd been alone with this man. I have no idea how his name was._

"_I…I…just…wanted to go to bed, but Trey wouldn't let me." I answered. I looked straight into the man's eyes._

"_You're Mom's mollycoddled you." He said. I didn't understand why he had the right to say something like that. He has no clue of what I had to bear._

"_That's not true!" I said, still looking into his eyes._

"_What are you looking at? Are you looking at me? You have no right to look at me!" He said and started to slap me over and over again. It had hurt more than usually, because of the bruises on my face._

"_Stop looking at me!" He said. I didn't listen. I wanted to prove that I wasn't mollycoddled. I haven't been. He was still slapping me. It had hurt so awfully. I started to cry again._

"_Stop crying you baby." He screamed. I have no idea how long he slapped my face, but eventually he stopped and left the room. My face was burning from the slaps and the tears hurt my skin. I knew Mom wouldn't allow me to go to school on Monday. I crawled under my blanket and just cried; but my face burnt and it had been pounding. When I heard that the TV had been turned off, I sneaked out of the room and went to the bathroom. My face had needed cooling. It looked so awfully red. It hurt so awfully. I splashed cold water on my face again and again. The skin had been awfully tautened and it felt as if it would burst any second. I had stopped crying. There weren't any tears left. I brushed my teeth and went back to bed. Trey didn't come home this evening, but I left his bed side free. The next morning my eyes hurt from all the crying and when I went into the bathroom again, I saw that my face looked ugly. I went straight back to bed and hid under the blanket. I only had five minutes more peace._

"_Ryan?" My Mom came in and sat down on the bed. "Ryan baby, it's time to get up. Mommy has bought you your favourite cereals." I have no idea how my Mum could have been a bitch one second and the next one, the caring mother I wished she had been more often._

"_Not hungry." I answered. I didn't want to look at her. I wanted to be left alone._

"_You must be hungry." She said and then pulled the blanket off. She looked at me and stroked through my hair. I wish she had tried to comfort me more often._

"_Oh baby, it looks as if there is no school on Monday." It wasn't a question but a fact. She took my hand and led me to the kitchen. I sat down in one chair and she gave me a bowl with cereals._

"_Baby, you need to stop looking at people, when they're talking to you or doing something." She had said. She sat down across from me with a mug of coffee._

"_You only make them angrier." She said. "I know what I'm talking about. I used to be like you are now and it only brought me trouble. It's better when you just shut up and look away." She said. Look away. She was a lord in it. She often looked away when she had been supposed to look._

"_I don't know what to do with you." She said. "If you don't change your behaviour I don't know whether I can cope with you any longer." She told me._

"_Don't get me wrong. I don't want to get rid of you baby. But you have to change otherwise I have no other choice." It had been harder and harder to swallow the cereal I liked so much. She really was telling me that she would send me somewhere else. She told me she wanted to abandon me. I only nodded._

"_That's my boy. Now eat your cereal and then go back into your room. Me and my boyfriend have some things to do, you shouldn't witness." She told me. When I'd finished I did as she had told and vanished in the bedroom. Trey still wasn't there. I tried to stay in the bedroom as long as possible, but after all the milk and the juice I needed the bathroom. I sneaked out of the room as silently as possible and went. The problem was that the flush isn't silent. They had heard it and when I got out of the bathroom my Mum's boyfriend was standing in front of me._

"_What the fuck are you doing here?" He asked. I looked up at him._

"_I had needed the bathroom." I answered. It had been the wrong one._

"_I told you not to look at me anymore." He said, dragged me back into the bedroom and started to hit me. Really hit me; with his fists, not with his palm. I started crying again. I didn't know what I'd done wrong. I only felt my lip split and I tasted the blood. I never bled after a beating, but this time I did. I couldn't do so, but again started to cry. My Mom came in. I'd thought she came to comfort me._

"_I've told you Ryan." She said. She packed some of my cloths into a bag and then took my hand and pulled my violently out of the house. She threw me into the car and then dumped me at the social services. There had been no goodbye, no kiss, no stroking. She stayed mute, told the staff she couldn't cope with me right now, and then went off. I spent four months in a foster home; until my Mom took me back home again. Her boyfriend was gone. I hadn't looked at her. When I was back in my room and Trey was occupying the whole bed again, I didn't say anything and I didn't look at him. I was too afraid she would send me back again. I had been eight. I hadn't been able to be without my Mom. I had wanted to stay, thus I just swallowed down what I thought and felt and started focusing the floor. The floor doesn't send you into a foster home and doesn't beat you."_

He told us this, without reading it. He cried more, but there were no sobs or other noise coming from him. I sat down next to him and put an arm around him.

"Ryan, you've been brave." I assured him. "It's a good thing to look at people and tell them something, as well as good as bad things. It shows that you're strong. I want you to look at Kirsten and me when you have something to say, no matter if we'll like what you have to say." I said. I stroke his upper arm. He was trembling.

"Ryan, looking at people if you have something to say is good. It shows that you really mean it. Never stop doing it again." I said and then put him into my arms. I wanted to give him some of my strength. I wanted to give him his strength back he had once possessed.


	18. Not being social anymore

_**Not being social anymore**_

"_I woke up. My head ached and my whole body was sore once again. I opened my eyes and it was dark. My eyes had already been used to the darkness. They didn't even have to adjust to it anymore. I crawled out of the corner. One dirty blanket had been all I had. I used it as mattress; the floor was too cold. I always fell asleep freezing and I woke up freezing. I got up onto my feet. The rats were frightening me. A group of them had already started considering me as lunch or dinner; might even have been breakfast. I had no idea. I only know that it'd hurt awfully and I'd hoped that someone would come downstairs and let me clean the bites. I hadn't been keen to have inflammation. Why I landed there again? I have no idea. Someone told A.J., I had told someone else about his little jobs. Bullshit. I hadn't been talking for years and he knew it. The result had been: I got my ass kicked for nothing. I don't remember how it happened. I only know I woke up in the basement again. I had to rethink me interpersonal activities. Spending day after day, even week after week in a basement isn't very funny. I had the feeling as if it was going to screw me. After every single enclosure it got harder and harder for me to move among other people. I still had to deal in the Club. Entering this club got more and more difficult. There were too many people around. It's like I forgot how to behave normally around other people. I hadn't thought about it a lot. The only problem had been that it was making my job a lot more complicated. The basement door opened some. My watch was gone. I never knew how late it was, unless A.J. told me to go to the Club. He entered the basement again._

"_Punk, I want you to go to the Club again. But this time keep your mouth shut." He snarled. I didn't look at him. My eyes were focused on the floor as they usually were. I only nodded. He grabbed my arm and dragged me upstairs. My Mom had made me dinner. I only could've been dinner, because it was already dark outside. I ate in silence and alone. She never looked at me anymore. She didn't talk to me. She just ignored me. She'd given up on me. She never helped me anymore. She'd been way too dependent on the drugs A.J. was providing her. I hated her for it; but I know she only did coke to forget about the whole situation we'd been stuck in. When I'd finished I'd been allowed to use the shower. If I'd been capable I'd taken a shower every hour. I still felt dirty, although A.J. had stopped bringing his friends. I guess I'll never feel clean again. Afterwards A.J. gave me the pack with the drugs and I went to the Club. I was still too young, but nobody checks your ID there, thus I had no problem to get in. I felt the urge to run away. It was too loud, too crowded and I'd been afraid of A.J.'s reaction later. But I did as he told me. I only took what he told me I should take for the stuff. If he'd wanted more, he should have dealt on his own. I did it once and got my ass kicked. I wouldn't do it again. It wasn't worth it._

_I made my round and dealt. It'd been hard for me to target my customers. I knew all of them; but it had been so damn hard. It took longer for me to get rid of the stuff. When I was back at home, it had been already dawn. I opened the door._

"_Where the fuck have you been?" A.J. screamed at me. I turned my head away. I didn't want to look into this disgusting face; that I assume must have been disgusting, as I never really did look at him._

"_Shit! I knew it was a risk to let you do the job. Did you rat on me?" He grabbed my t-shirt and tore me to his chest. I turned my head away._

"_Smug, huh?" He said and slapped my face. I could have told him that I've been in the Club, but it wouldn't have made any difference. No, I wouldn't have been able to say these words. I hadn't been talking for so long. It was linked to too many fears, as if I could have overcome those to tell A.J. the truth._

"_Come with me." He decided. I followed him. I didn't know where he wanted to go. He went to his rotten car and got in._

"_C'mon shithead!" He screamed and I got in. The car smelled like nicotine and vomit. We went to a bar; I've never been there before. He dragged me with him. The bar was crowded. I was afraid. There were too many people in too less space and I didn't know them. Panic crawled up my spine, but I didn't show it. A.J. would have considered me as weak and he would have made use of it. It was some kind of protection mechanism. When they think you're weak, they don't hesitate to kick your ass. But if you show them that you're strong, it takes them a little more to do so. We had to fight our way through the masses. There was a cage in the middle of the bar. Two men were fighting each other. One had already been bleeding out of a wound on his forehead. The people around were screaming; it hurt my ears. I had no clue what I was doing in such a place. It was disgusting. I'd wanted to leave this place. A.J. went ahead and talked to someone. I remained in the far distance. I only watched them. The one man looked at me several times; then A.J. gave him some money. _

"_Why are you looking that stupid? Come here!" A.J. yelled at me and I obeyed. _

"_Do you see this?" He pointed at the fighting men in the cage. I nodded. I'd already sensed what A.J. had up on his sleeve and my heart was beating faster due the adrenaline that already spread through my body._

"_Pay good attention. I bet a lot of money on this guy there." He pointed on the opposite corner._

"_He's your combatant. You understand what I want to say." He said. He meant: lose. Now he left it to others, to do the job of kicking my ass. I shook my head. I hadn't wanted to do this. The other guy had been even taller and more monstrous than A.J. I wouldn't make it through one punch._

"_There's no alternative option, unless your mother doesn't mean anything to you." He said. He used to threaten me with my mother's life when he wanted me to do something. He'd known I wouldn't allow him harming my mother. I had to accept. _

"_Here. This should help you to hold on at least five minutes." He handed me a glass with brown liquid. The smell stung my nose. It was something strong, because it not only burnt in my throat, but even in my stomach. I had to pull me t-shirt off, because of some stupid reason and then they bandaged my fists. My heart pounded so hard that I felt it in my throat. I wanted to run, but I had been too afraid of what A.J. might do to my Mom and even to me. There had still been a higher possibility for me to get out alive, than after A.J. decided he was really very angry at me. I stepped into the cage. The other man had already been there. It smelled like sweat and blood, alcohol and vomit and a lot of nicotine. I started retching out of a reflex, but I managed to keep my stomachs contents. I saw the man, A.J. had spoken to before. He closed the door to the cage. I felt the urge to run and scream at him: open the fucking door, but it'd been too late. I saw the one man stepping back into a corner and I did so too. I felt dizzy. My breath was shallow. I felt like crying. I wanted to get out. I hadn't belonged there. The man stepped into the middle of the cage. I refused to go, but an instinct told me that I had to go there too. If I had remained in my corner he already would have cornered me and I wouldn't have had any chance. The man landed his first punch in my face. My head snapped back with a force that knocked me out._

"_C'mon pussy, go back on your feet!" Someone called._

"_Boo, since when do we let fight girls?" Another man called. I lifted my head and only saw a foot coming down on me. It had hurt awfully. The force made it impossible for me to get back on my feet._

"_Shit, what a fucker are you?" Someone else called. They were throwing their bottles against the cage – directed to the corner I was laying. Beer splashed all over my body. In somehow I was able to go back onto my feet; but as soon as I'd been stood, the man landed another punch in my face. I stumbled back. I started to feel dizzy; stars were sparkling in front of my eyes. The man was running towards me, but I'd launched at him and knocked him onto the ground. I hadn't known until then, that I own that much force in my buddy._

"_Boo, stop it." Someone called._

"_Just luck!" Another one screamed._

"_This isn't a playground!" Another one screamed. I turned around and saw A.J.'s angry face. Right I was supposed to lose this fight. I just switched into my numb modus. The man started to punch me. I took several fists, before I went down again. He started kicking me. My stomach started cramping. I was hearing all those people shouting. Nobody was helping. Nobody stepped in. Nobody had cared that I was only fifteen. I tasted blood. I started retching again. This time I hadn't been able to resist. My stomach emptied itself. I'd no control. I had been throwing up – blood. I started to feel dizzy and I was glad when everything around me started to turn black._

_When I woke up again, the man was gone and the shouting people were now sitting at the bar. My body had hurt like hell. Tears welled up my eyes; but I swallowed them down. I had to. I tried to get up. I propped up onto my arms, then onto my hands, but they gave way and I fell down again. I tried it again and again, but I just couldn't move my body. I'd looked around the people that were still there. They looked back and started laughing. There hadn't been anything funny about that. I wasn't been able to get up again. I tried it again and again, and eventually I managed to get up onto my feet. I had to hold on the cage, otherwise I would have fallen again and I don't think I would have gotten up then. I slowly stepped out of the cage. The people were still laughing at me; f they had only known. If they had known that A.J. had made me do this - losing the fight. If they had known that I hadn't wanted to fight. I don't know if it would have been different. I picked up my t-shirt that was lying on the dirty floor. I pulled it over. Every single move hurt. When I didn't feel too naked anymore, I made my way through the bar._

"_Hey, little pussy woke up from her nap." One man said and then jostled me. I had trouble to remain on me feet, but I did – unfortunately I hit my hip at the edge of a table. The others around me started to laugh even more and started pushing me around making it harder for me to leave. I managed somehow to get out of the bar; but there I stood completely alone. There were so many people, but nobody had cared. I had no idea where I was or how to get home again. It was cold outside and I started shivering. I felt the blood running out of my nose and my head was one throbbing pain. I sat down on the pavement. Strangers passed by spitting at me or unnecessarily kicking me against my leg. I had been alone. I wanted to go home, but I didn't know how. My legs hadn't had the strength to carry me any further and I was so tired. I just sat there and waited. The sun broke through the darkness. I had trouble to keep my eyes open, but I had such a bad headache that I feared it could be a concussion – it surly had been one. I'd been puking for at least one week. When I regained some strength I got up again and walked home. It must have taken me hours, and I can't tell you how I managed to arrive at home. When I entered the house my Mom was passed out on the couch and A.J. wasn't home. I went into the bathroom. I didn't switch the light on. I'd been afraid to see what had happened to me. I turned the shower on and stepped under the hot steaming water. I didn't bother taking my clothes off first. The hot water hurt my body, but my muscles started to relax. After the shower I went into my room and put on fresh clothes. The door to the house was slammed shut and I knew it was A.J._

"_This is not your place." He slurred. I knew what it meant. He grabbed my arm and dragged my back into the basement. Honestly: I had been glad that I was back in there. There were no people laughing at me or kicking after me, when I was already down. I started to appreciate the loneliness. A.J. still had made me deal the drugs; but I guess it was only because he knew how afraid I had become of being in other people's presence – in crowded places. I'd been too afraid. I have no control of what is going to happen when I'm one among hundred of others. I just couldn't handle it anymore. I've been isolated for too long and I hadn't had good experiences. I just wanted to stay on my own. I'm the only one I can rely on. I'm the only one I can trust."_

"Ryan, but you have us now. None of us will laugh at you when you're hurt and I'm sure you noticed that people around Newport aren't that bad either - despite Luke; but he's shaving his chest so he doesn't really count." My son said and sat down on the bed next to me. I put an arm around him. I was proud of him. He'd been listening to all of this and he handled it very maturely.

"We are all there for you Ryan – at least you have us." I soothed him. He hadn't stopped crying. With every sentence he had spoken, he had started crying more. He's such a vulnerable boy. They had harmed him so bad. I rubbed his back in circles. He sat in the middle of us, being a part of our family. He sat between me and my wife and my son sat across from me.

"Ryan if anyone, any stranger, ever does something like that to you, I swear we'll be there to help you out. This won't happen again when you're with us." My wife said. She held him tight in her arms. My eyes went up; only then I realized that the doctor was gone.

"It's okay kid. We're here and help you through all of your fears and we'll fight all these demons. We can." I assured him.

"Yes and I do the pick-up-the-laundry-from-the-basement-job. You never have to go there if you don't want to, and we always have your back." My son said. His unwieldiness was in somehow cute and it had so been my son. He'd wanted to help and he did.

* * *

"Oh sweetie." I said, stroking through his hair. He needed to know that we were there for him and that we would take care of him. He'd been awfully devastated, but he allowed us physically contact. He'd told us the reason why he was behaving the way he did. He'd told us his secrets. He had trusted us. He needed someone who built up his self-confidence; someone who made him a human being again.


	19. End of the Journy

**A/N.: BIG THANKS to my beta ParisAmy! **(yes, I posted this twice, because of some little mistakes I forgot to correct)  
**

* * *

_19. End of the journy_**

"Well, as I see it you're all still behind the idea of taking Ryan in. I think it's worth a try." The social worker finally says; after we told him why we decided to take Ryan in and why we were sure we can handle him. I feel relief spreading through all my body. Eventually we are allowed to take our missing boy home with us. My husband squeezes my hand and my son is forced to a big smile. We finally can start to be a complete family, and nobody will complain about being left alone.

"But he'll have to visit a therapist frequently, and I'll receive reports about his progress. I'll also come by once in a while, checking if everything's working out. If I realize it's not, I'll take him with me again." These threatening words; but I'm sure this is going to work out. The boy had made such a progress in such a short time; there is no way this isn't going to work. I won't allow that this not to work out. I'll fight for this as hard as I can - with all my force; and hell I owe a lot of force. Yes, I'll make him being my son – our son. I doubt there're going to be too many problems. There's my husband and my son. We're all three willing and able to make Ryan settle in our family.

"We understand your concerns. But we'll do everything in our power to get Ryan settled with us." My husband answers and I know he will – we will.

"Okay. Then I need you to sign these forms and then you can take Ryan with you." The social worker says and hands us a bunch of papers. We read them carefully and fill in the blanks. I start counting the remaining sheets. Only four sheets until Ryan is ours. Three, two one. Now we only need to take him home with us. He's officially our son.

* * *

I'm glad that this journey is over now, and I'm happy that we'd been able to reach our aim. After Ryan had told us so much about his life – had told us his secrets – he had to stay in the institution for a few more days. They had wanted to observe his reaction after this event. Nothing had happened. The boy had just been exhausted for a few days and he had retreated into his shell a little; which was a normal reaction as the doctor told us. There was no sign for any kind of self harm. He turned a little quiet again and Dr. Morgan had allowed him to retreat a little. But he never drew back as far as he had at the beginning. He always had been open to us. We had visited him every day. My wife had insisted to do so, and I agreed with her feeling. We had told the boy we were there and we had to put it into action. Sometimes we'd only been watching our boys hanging out. Sometimes we'd taken him out and done something together. It was like he realized more and more that we meant what we've said with every day we spent with him. We had started a full family life with him and the thought of being able to do so every day was a good feeling. Seeing his smile at least once a day was enough to know all work and efforts had been worth it. After we've signed all the papers we left the office of the social worker.

"And now let us take him home." My wife says. We step out the door. "I don't know how to thank you." My wife says to Dr. Morgan. Her efforts and her report had made this possible.

"There's nothing to thank for. I only have done my job. I only wished there were more parents like you." She says, and I know she means it. She'd left us alone the one day, because she'd known we could handle it.

"Well you've been a great help in this. Without you, we probably wouldn't be able to take Ryan home with us." I add.

* * *

I look at my husband and I see he feels the same as I do: happiness and relieve. I can't wait to be able to decorate Ryan's room – well probably the pool house at the beginning. I can't wait to be able to say goodnight to him, as I say goodnight to Seth. I can't wait to be the mother for him, he deserves and needs.

"Yeah, you shouldn't let him wait for too long." Dr. Morgan says with a smile and then leaves us.

"C'mon son, time to pick your brother up." I say to my son and then we head for the institution.

* * *

I'm happy having a brother now; it's great. I already know what we can do. I have so many plans; how we can plan the last weeks of vacations, maybe I need to ask the 'rents to extend the vacations. I mean with Ryan we have a good reason doing so. Will Ryan go to Harbor High? Well I don't know yet, but I hope so. It would be great. We could go to the same classes, do our homework together. Yes, the feeling of being kicked out of loneliness is extraordinary super great. I'm a little concerned about Captain Oats. I don't know how he'll cope with the new situation, but I'll see then. Does Ryan have his own Captain Oats? I don't know, but if not I have to find him his own personal Captain Oats.


	20. Thanks

**A/N.:** Let me call this story co-work: ParisAmy contributed her language skills and I some ideas. I hope you enjoyed this story.

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_**20. Thanks**_

We're staying in the kitchen and watching out of the window. We had agreed that Ryan might feel better when he has some more privacy; thus we settled him in the pool house. Maybe we can settle him in our house one day too; but first of all it is all about making Ryan comfortable, and my Mom is eager to help us. She'd quit her job and moved into the apartment we'd bought for her. I've never thought this was going to happen one day, but it did. The boy made it possible. My Mom comes by frequently, checking on the boy – the boys. She had turned from the Nana into a real Granny. Her relationship to my wife is relaxed. They get along quite well and it I enjoy watching her, folding Caleb flat.

* * *

My husband has quit his job and transferred to private chambers. This case had shaken his world and he hadn't been able to work as public defender anymore. He was forced to compare – to compare all these cases with our boy. He hadn't been able to remain objective. Honestly, this event had shaken my world as well. It had changed everything.

* * *

"Did you talk to Dr. Kim?" I ask my wife.

"Yes. She said that we should give it a try." I answer.

"And did you tell her that he might have problems to participate in coursework due in the classes?" It was time to get the boy settled in a normal and stable life. He deserved it and he needed it.

"I did and she said that the coursework can be replaced by additional assignments." I tell him. Dr. Kim had been very helpful.

"And which year?"

"Seth's."

"Really?"

"His test result had been very good." I answer him. I'm glad that things are starting to get onto normal tracks now. It's obvious that it still needs time until Ryan can start to be a normal teenager, but he's on his best way. I step out the patio and go towards the pool house. My husband is following me.

We enter the pool house. It's empty. My heart stops for a second, but then I hear the water running. He steps out of the bathroom. He offers us a small smile – every time he sees us. He feels comfortable around us. Every day a little more and this little more is the reassurance that we've done the right thing.

"Time for bed honey." My wife says. He nods. He still isn't much of a talker. He's very quiet. But he's talking, just not a lot. He's working on his issues and we do our best to support him where we can. He climbs into bed and my wife tucks him in.

"Have a nice dream." She says and pecks his forehead.

"If you need anything, you know where we are." My husband adds. Ryan still flinches at physical contact, but he's working on it. We turn to the door, but turn around once more - before we go out. We look at him and he starts to speak.

"Thanks…for everything."

~**END**~


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